Frozen Fires
by Rianne
Summary: A little romantic adventure which takes place early season two.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note_! I'm just trying something new, called Chapters! Hope I managed to load this right! And I hope you enjoy, please read and review! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter One. _

"Matthew…Matthew!" Colleen's exasperated voice rang out. She stood at the top of the homestead steps wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron, a frown appearing across her face. "Matthew!" she tried again, her only response being the faint echo of her own voice as it rebounded from the barn and surrounding out buildings. She threw her hands up in frustration and growled through gritted teeth as she turned on her heel and stormed back into the house. A sudden wind slammed the heavy door behind her.

"Did you hear something?" Matthew whispered into Ingrid's hair as he reluctantly lifted his head from the curve of her neck where he had been raining soft kisses.

"I do not think so." She responded slowly catching her breath, her flushed cheek warm against his ear. "I think I should go now." She pulled her wool shawl back into place up around her shoulders.

"Awwww, don't do that," he moaned, stealing another quick kiss this time from her lips.

"I must go," Ingrid stated more firmly, lightly pushing on his shoulders. "I must make supper for Jon and my sisters."

Matthew sighed slowly, caressing her loosened hair from her face. She was serious now so he nodded and took her hand helping her up from their nest in the hay.

"You forgot your hat!" she said with a shy smile as she scooped it up and placed it back on his head. He grinned widely as they crossed the barn, he slipped the latch and eased the heavy door open a crack and peered out. The coast looked clear. Taking Ingrid's hand he snuck them out through the gap, returning the latch to its place as quietly as he could.

"Where you been!"

Brian's voice almost caused the guilty pair to jump out of their skins. Without waiting for an answer Brian continued in earnest, his sincerity making him all the sweeter. " Colleen's been lookin' for ya, she's real mad."

Matthew caught Ingrid's eye as they shared a private smile.

"Where?" Brian demanded again.

Matthew reached out and scruffed Brian's hair. "Nowhere, little brother, go tell Colleen I'll be there in a while. Gonna take Ingrid back to town."

Brian hovered, feeling like he was being left out of something, something important. Yet again.

"Well…go on!" Matthew said, his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter.

Brian scuffed his boot in the dirt, as he turned with a sigh, slumped his shoulders and went back into the homestead. He was going to get it from Colleen now. Yet again. He hated being the youngest when Dr. Mike was away.

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Michaela was bone tired and she was struggling to hide it from Sully. Soldiering onwards, images of the children playing across her minds eye and driving her forward. At the homestead she imagined little Brian on tiptoes peering out of the window, always the worrier, whilst Colleen would be busying herself, but sharing concerned glances with Matthew, as they did their best to comfort their brother and reassure him that Dr. Mike would be fine. After all she was with Sully, and side-by-side they could, and had, survived everything that had been thrown at them before.

A heavy gust of wind, that almost knocked her off her feet, brought her sharply back to the reality. The heavy hanging clouds were sinking lower and lower, their looming consistency darkening to an ashen grey. They both knew that it was of the utmost importance to find shelter, they had to keep moving to keep their body temperatures up, had to find a way to start a fire. She turned her head against the force of the gaining wind. All it took was a moments meeting of Sully's expressive eyes to comfort her and reaffirm her strength.

He had to force a reassuring glance in her direction. She looked so fearful as she peered at him from underneath the hood of her crochet woollen shawl, whilst the wind scratched at the escaping tendrils of her beautiful hair. When she turned her gaze away from him he released the fears he had held back from her and they played perfusely across his face. He returned to his task of scouring the rough country; now even more desperate for anything that would serve as an escape from the encroaching storm.

The wind was violent now; whipping their visible breath like smoke huffed out, as they began to scale a slope in the landscape. Michaela having to resort to using her hands to scramble up the natural embankment. Sully climbed behind her, supporting her when necessary as they meandered their way up the frost hardened earth.

Reaching the top she crouched a moment to allow Sully to catch up. Glad for the greater freedom of movement her riding bloomers allowed her, even if they didn't provide as much warmth as her usual layers of petticoats and skirts. When Sully drew up on a level with her; he reached out and encircled her back with his heavy animal skin covered arm, drawing her close so that he could speak to her in their exposed position over the roar of the wind.

"Are you alright?" He shouted, pressing his lips to the wool against her ear to be heard. He pulled back to register her response. Her lips were too cold to speak, so she simply nodded, still breathing heavily from the climb.

"We have to keep going." He stated, the warmth of his lips against her ear again, and then he was forcing her onward. Sliding his hand under her furthest arm to help her stand. She curled her gloved fingers into the edges of his coat drawing herself up until they stood, close enough that the tip of her nose brushed his.

There it was again, dancing in his eyes, that reassuring smile she drew so much strength from. She nodded to let him know that she was ready to continue. Then something cold landed softly on the bridge of her nose. Both raised their faces upwards as yet more and more flakes of snow began to drift downwards until they were caught in the updraft of the wind and tossed away. Michaela gasped in surprise at the beauty of the moment. To Sully it placed a deeper, heavier weight in his chest. They had to find shelter and now.

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Horace Bing, the Telegraph operator, was all a fluster when he came crashing out of his Telegraph office, a scrap of his notepaper flapping in his out stretched hand.

"What is it now Horace, sale on pencils over in Denver?" growled Hank Lawson, from his usual chair on the stoop of his Saloon, his low voice filled with lazy sarcasm.

"Storms comin'!" shouted Horace. To panicked to register that Hank had even spoken. "Just got me a wire from the Telegraph in Denver. Folks there said it's real bad."

"Real bad?" shouted Loren Bray, stalking over from his General Store, with Dorothy Jennings on his heels, her reporters notebook already to hand. The Reverend who had been buying candles for the church from the store closely followed the pair.

"Real bad," confirmed Horace with wide eyes. "Seven inches of snow in some parts already and only goin' to get worse, so folks say."

"Oh Lord! What about Dr. Mike and Sully?" Myra broke in. Meeting Hank's 'Do not defy me' glare head on as she slid through the Saloon doors wrapped in a ratty excuse for a shawl.

"Dr. Mike and Sully?" Dorothy questioned, ignoring Hank.

"Yeah," Myra nodded breathlessly, unused to being such a source of information. "They was heading out Denver way to the Reservation land a few hours ago. Dr. Mike said so when she stitched up Old Jimmy this mornin'"

"What about the Children?" The Reverend asked. "Were they going too?"

Myra shook her head.

"Grace and Me'll go and check on them at the homestead, bring'em into town with us for the night " Robert E's deep voice spoke up, he and his new wife had seen the commotion and gotten worried.

"We'd be glad to." Grace chimed in.

"Glad to what?" Jake Slicker demanded as he emerged from his barbershop wiping his razor on an old towel. He'd caught only the end of the conversation and as always had to be involved.

"Dr. Mike and Sully went out to the Reservation and we're worried. Horace got a Telegram from Denver saying that there is a storm coming." The Reverend filled him in stumbling over his words in his usual well-meaning way.

"Storm?" Jake repeated. "Loren, you got any extra candles and blankets?" A man always looking out for himself alone he began to root through his pockets for change. Loren Bray's eyes lit up as he quickly assessed that there might just be a way to cash in on this latest piece of misfortune.

"Gentleman!" Dorothy almost shouted, the disbelief clear in her voice. "Michaela and Sully, we have to warn them."

"Owwww Dorothy, don't you fuss, I'm sure they made it to that damned Indian Reservation just fine. They'll be shacked up in some teepee doing some funny ceremony with drums and peace pipes and war cries. You mark my words, if we go out looking for them we'll get caught in the storm and end up lost, or frozen, or worse," he said his voice trailing off into his trademark scowl.

"He's right!" shouted Jake, leaping up onto his usual metaphorical soapbox.

"They'll be fine," Hank slurred calmly. He tossed the end of his finished cigar into the water trough with a sizzle, and bringing his boots down to the wooden stoop with a loud thud said, "Loren, gonna need me a few things at ya store."

And with that the group began to disperse, leaving only Dorothy and Myra standing in the dusty street with concerned faces. Grace and Robert E headed to the livery to saddle up their horses, Jake, the Reverend, Hank and Loren crossed over to the General Store and Horace rushed back to his post in the Telegraph office to send wires to other local towns, always serious in his duty to his country.

"They'll be okay Dorothy," Myra reassured, squeezing Dorothy's arm. "I'm sure Mr. Bray's right, well not about the war cries," She smiled a little, turning back to the saloon.

Dorothy nodded. "I hope you're right," she said softly to Myra's back as she watched the sweet saloon girl sashay back through Hank's swinging doors. "I hope you're right."

Dorothy shivered drawing her woollen cloak tighter. Maybe it was just the knowledge that a storm was coming, but she could have sworn that the temperature had just dropped rather suddenly.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I'm just trying something new, called Chapters! Hope I managed to load this right! And I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments for my first chapter! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Two._

Cloud Dancing stood on the outskirts of the Cheyenne village with a worried look tightening his forehead. It had been a few hours since he had sensed the changes in nature that signalled that a storm was coming.

He had been right. It had just begun to snow down upon the small cluster of teepees and the camp had become a flurry of activity as the tribe worked to reinforce their homes against heavier snow.

"You are worried about Dr. Mike and Sully?"

He turned his head as his wife Snowbird approached. He was surprised to hear her speaking English. He nodded curtly.

"The spirits are uneasy," he replied, his tone grave.

"I am sure that they saw the storm and turned back, maybe they did not start their journey here at all." Snowbird predicted, moving closer to rest her chin against her husbands shoulder as she leaned into his back with reassuring affection. "Sully knows the weather. He listens when you teach."

"But Medicine Woman is stubborn," he responded with mild affection. "And Sully does not always listen to his common sense when she is with him."

Snowbird sighed, smiling at the sweet truth of Cloud Dancing's words. She was very fond of both Sully and Dr. Mike, but her teasing of Sully had not seemed to encourage any serious declarations towards Dr. Mike so far.

She drew back from her husband and taking his hand in hers she tugged him through the heavy flap of their tepee into the pleasant warmth provided by the fire and the sweet warmth provided by their kisses and caresses.

With a teasing smile she softly whispered some more newly learned English, "I love you."

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Colleen and Brian sat in silence staring at each other across the table. Three plates of steaming stew and a basket of biscuits lay untouched between them.

"Can't we just eat?" whined Brian.

He was silenced by Colleen's severe look.

The bad weather had yet to reach them fully, the little old cabin was just being rocked a little every now and then by a gust of more powerful wind which made the oil lamps on the table flicker.

"Tell me again what Matthew said." She instructed Brian.

"He said he was taking Ingrid to town and then coming right back." Brian droned for what felt to him like the thirtieth time. "It's getting cold. It's not my fault Matthew's not here. How come I can't eat?"

"Fine!" Colleen said sharply.

Brian, not wasting a minute, tucked in heartily.

Colleen poked her meat with the tip of her fork. She wasn't very hungry anymore. She was certainly annoyed though. How could he? He was the eldest, and yet every time Dr. Mike wasn't here it was the same. It had happened when the Indian baby had been staying with them too. He just up and left. He probably went out enjoying himself, went fishing, took Ingrid out, he just disappeared, and left her to do everything.

She'd been looking for him since that morning to chop her some wood for the fire. She twisted a little in her chair, trying not to attract Brian's attention as she tried to gage just how long she could keep the fire going with the scraps of wood left on the pyre. Not long at all. She was going to have to chop the wood herself. She bit her lip at a sudden remembrance of her real mother Charlotte. She could hear her plain as day saying 'If you want something done, ya just got to do it ya self, no man gonna do it for ya.'

She poked her food again with a sigh; she just wasn't hungry. Brian had almost cleared his plate already and was sneaking long surreptitious looks at Matthew's plate sitting steaming in front of his vacant chair.

"Go on, eat it," she said pushing Matthew's plate towards her little brother, "No sense in it going to waste, took me long enough to make it."

Brian didn't even stop eating long enough to thank her; he just reached over and scooped up more stew. She shook her head at him as she rose from the table. No need to stand on ceremony tonight and wait until all at the table had finished if certain members had not even bothered to appear.

A sharper gust of wind than the previous blasts blew the shutters, Sully had recently affixed, hard against the windowpane, causing them both to jump.

"Sounds bad," Brian mumbled through a mouthful of biscuit, spraying a few crumbs over his plate.

Colleen nodded, suddenly a little less annoyed at Matthew and a little more worried. Sounded like a storm was coming, what if he was out there on his way back from town?

Picking up one of the oil lamps from the table she crossed to the window and lifted the gauzy curtain. The sky looked pretty angry, and it was a lot darker than it should have been for the hour. She turned back to Brian.

"Looks like a storm's comin', better make sure the animals are all right." She said, keeping her voice surprisingly calm considering the nervous churning feeling that filled her stomach. "You go check on the horses, and I'm gonna make sure we have enough firewood."

Brian rose from the table his supper all at once forgotten. "What about Matthew?" his voice sounded small.

"I'm sure he stayed in town with Ingrid and her family." She tried to convince them both, hearing echo's of Dr. Mike's comforting tone, the one that she adopted when she was reassuring patients of things she wasn't entirely sure of herself.

"Are you sure?" It seemed Brian never gave up.

"Yes, now go, make sure the barn is secure and that the animals have enough hay and water. Go on!" she said with more force, unhooking his jacket from the wall and thrusting it at him. She shouldered her own jacket on and followed him outside.

The wind caught her hair as she stepped out, tangling it wildly. She watched as Brian ran over to the barn and had to use his entire body weight to draw back the latch and force the door open against the wind.

When she was sure that he was no longer watching her she crossed to the stump where the axe was sheathed. She stood for a moment just assessing it. She had seen Matthew and Sully cut wood a hundred times over. She had even seen Dr. Mike attempt it to some degree of success. She could do it, why not, all she had to do was to swing the axe up and bring it down on the log. Easy, even little pieces of wood would be good enough, but the logs as they were would be to heavy to burn.

She took hold of the axe handle, and pulled. Nothing happened. She tried again, pulling harder. Still nothing. She slumped her shoulders catching her breath. Bracing her foot against the stump she used it as leverage and tugged hard, her foot slipped and she swiftly landed on her back in a heap, but the axe came free.

She huffed out a breath feeling foolish. She was glad Brian hadn't been there to see that. He would never have let her live it down. She looked over towards the barn, but the door was closed. Scrambling back to her feet she positioned the first log and pausing looked from the axe to the wood. Then she tried a few slow practise swings, bringing the axe down in a curve to the top of the wood each time. All right, she felt ready now. She brought the axe up for real and swung it hard into the wood. Perfect, it spilt easily down the middle and she felt pride swell in her chest. She was as good as any boy!

In the barn Brian was raking hay into Flash's stall, whilst the horse whinny'd at him and got in the way. He reached up affectionately to rub the white patch on the beast's nose. "Don't worry, Dr. Mike will be back soon. Then you two can go riding again." The horse turned her head and nudged Brian's elbow. He laughed, "All right, all right, I'll get back to work!"

He moved on into the cow's stable, watching it watching him, chewing suspiciously. Colleen loved that cow, had even named it Gertie, but Gertie had never taken to Brian. He edged slowly around the beast gently pushing on her hind quarters so that he could sweep clean hay into the back of the stall. Gertie mooed her displeasure at him.

"It's all right Gertie," Brian whispered trying not to get too close to her as he sidled his way out of her stall and continued sweeping the old hay over towards the door of the barn.

He was suddenly interrupted by a painful scream, which turned his blood ice cold.

"Colleen?" he shouted frantically throwing down his rake and racing to the barn door.

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"Will you come on Robert E!" Grace demanded as she hovered by his side watching him check that all the horses' were saddled up tightly enough.

"Quit rushing me woman!" he said with a teasing smile in his eyes.

Grace allowed no one but Robert E to speak to her like that. And he was brave enough when he did!

She had been enjoying her new status in his life. His wife, she a married woman! It still made her smile. She had gotten to the point where she had almost given up, seemed like nothing would get through that thick skull of his and encourage him to ask for her hand. She had tried everything, from baking him suppers, to even casually commenting that the china in Mr. Bray's store was mighty pretty in a way that made her cheeks flush! Yet, when he had finally asked her she had been so sure that he never would that she had almost choked on the engagement ring he had hidden in a glass of her famous cider. She gently twisted the gold band on her finger a smile teasing her lips.

"Alright," Robert E, finally finished, reached for her hand to help her up onto the wagon.

"It's about time!" she replied settling herself and her skirts as he climbed up beside her and he pulled on the reigns signalling to the horses to move.

From the window of the General Store Dorothy watched Grace and Robert E head off for Michaela's homestead. She could not help but feel the pangs of worry for her friends again.

"Will you come away from that window and stop pining Dorothy. You got customers!" Loren reprimanded, from his post behind the till. The store was much busier than usual with townsfolk seemingly gripped by storm fever.

With one last glance upward at the dark strip of sky she returned to her duties.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note_! I'm just trying something new: Chapters! Hope I managed to load this right! And I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first two chapters! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Three._

The drifts of snow were ankle deep now, her dullened boots sinking with every laboured step, as white continued to blot out almost everything as far as the eye could see. The snowflakes caught in her eyelashes and she felt like she was wandering aimlessly through the silken strands of a million spiders webs or walking through a fluffy cloud. Except for the moisture, everything was wet as she reached up again and swiped a soggy gloved hand across her eyes.

She had to keep a tight hold on the arm of Sully's coat just to know he was there. She was trying not to be a burden, but he was the one forcing them onwards, occasionally moving across one side of her in an effort to protect her from the harsher gusts of wind.

She could just make out the outline of a stretch of trees running down their immediate left hand side. Old trees, without leaves, that were twisted and wizened like little old men. Her mind froze at the thought.

She had had that same thought not too long ago, about half an hour in fact. She was sure of it and the last tree in the row had been twisted up just like that. No, it just couldn't be.

They plodded forward, Michaela having to lift her legs higher, her thigh muscles burning, just to be clear the snow before she could take each step.

Sully, halted beside her and shouted, enunciating each word so she could lip-read if she could not hear him. "Walk in my footsteps." Or at least she thought that was what he said; the wind snatched his words and tossed them high.

She manoeuvred herself behind him, taking a hold of the very bottom of his coat, to maintain the contact she needed. This was lighter work; her tiny feet sank into his much larger footprints with ease.

But her feet were not to be the only things that sank. She felt the heavy sickening thud of her heart sinking as she passed a rock, she remembered that too, and she remembered the way that the ground had sloped upward there and fallen away again to their right.

She knew it then. They were lost.

She tugged twice, sharply, on Sully's coat. Nothing.

Thinking that he must not have felt it she tugged again harder, at the exact moment that Sully pulled up short to check on her. Michaela's foot slipped in the wetter snow of Sully's footprints and she fell, tumbling into him and they landed face first down in the snow with a gasp as the air rushed out of their lungs, Michaela's fall cushioned by Sully's broad back. They lay there panting; Sully's hood had fallen completely blocking out what little light there was.

He twisted quickly, tumbling Michaela off his back and into the snow at his side. He immediately reached for her, pulling her against him, his hands frantically pushing back her hood, and her shawl and her hair to see her face.

She was laughing! She couldn't help it, the rolls of near hysterical waves crashing through her. Sully in his relief was helpless but to respond, feeling the peculiar lightness that always accompanied laughter buoy his spirit. She looked like a snow angel.

He could not believe it! She had scared him half to death thinking she had collapsed from exhaustion and here she was completely fine, just her usual clumsy self!

"I'm sorry!" she mouthed through her laughter. She sighed as she breathed in to calm herself and her expression sobered somewhat. "I think we're lost."

"What?" he shouted. Scooting his body even closer as he manoeuvred it so he could speak directly into the shell of her ear.

Michaela's mind paused for a moment; the heady warmth of his lips against her was just too distracting.

"What did you say?" Sully repeated as his breath changed her shivers from ones of cold to a kind much more pleasant.

She nuzzled her face closer, deeper into the fur of his hood, "I think we're lost."

Her lips were like ice against him and her words sent shards of it crashing through his heart. The whiteness had obliterated all points of reference. He had nothing to go by. He looked around them from their position down in the snow. They were lost, deeply lost and in very big trouble.

But they could not just lie here. Here would definitely equal a frozen death from exposure.

Michaela was still breathing softly against the sensitive spot behind his ear. Waiting for his response, reluctant to withdraw from his shelter and his warmth.

"Come on," he said, lifting them up. "Onwards," he instructed, as they helped each other to stand.

She instantly missed his heat, feeling the tip of her nose sting as the cold air and snowflakes blasted over her again and she could only blank her mind to prevent her imaginings of the possible ravages frostbite could inflict to their skin.

She had once vowed never to get lost again, but she had been seven at the time and 'never' had not quite seemed so much of an infinite amount. She had managed to keep this vow so far. Well, right up until she had arrived in Colorado Springs.

The vow had been made after yet another argument with Mother. She had desperately not wanted to sit in a dreary hall and listen as a little old lady droned on about her floral arrangements. She had wanted to go to the hospital with her father, had been meant to spend the day with him helping out on the children's ward, but her father had been called away to deliver a premature baby at the last moment and had vanished in a whirl of apologies.

She had worried a little about the baby at first, before her mother had announced that now she simply must accompany her to the floral lecture and she would hear no more on the subject. After that all thoughts of the tiny infant had been forgotten as a self-centred sulk was undertaken.

Her mother had taken a tight hold of her wrist and half marched, half dragged her reluctant daughter into the carriage. Michaela had simply looked the other direction, pretending that she didn't notice.

The road outside the lecture hall had been busy, full to bursting with other carriages and women in fine dresses had stood gossiping in the most inopportune places. The carriage driver could go no further, so the steward had jumped down and assisted Mrs. Quinn and Miss Michaela down. Her mother had automatically reached for her hand but Michaela had stubbornly wriggled free just as her mother's awful friends Mrs. Buchanan and Mrs. Brightman had come rustling over to converse.

Michaela had scowled, and she kept avoiding her mother's hand as Elizabeth Quinn had continued to attempt to claim it, half attending to Michaela, whilst still trying to conduct sparkling conversation, their hand battle disguised by Elizabeth's voluminous skirts. Michaela had known then that she would be in big trouble when she got home, but spurred on by the knowledge that Elizabeth Quinn would not embarrass herself by disciplining her daughter in public she had continued her covert game.

Her mother gave up first, always perfect in public, her friends never noticed her frustration, but Michaela had seen the displeasure as it flashed in her eyes and it had perfectly balanced out her own elation. She had won, at least for now.

The women's conversation, high above her head, had been dull and had continued on for what had seemed like hours. Her attention wandering, Michaela's gaze alighted upon another carriage drawing up, and then flitted onto a maid as she dusted a window ledge in a near by office, to a funny little old gentleman strolling past with a fat little dog which waddled primly on its lead. Even the funny little dog could not brighten her spirits.

Her eyes followed the fat creature until the pair passed a boutique and this caught her attention. In the window was the most beautiful gown in a deep emerald green with long swishing skirts. Without even a glance back towards her mother she slipped closer to the big window until she was almost close enough to press the tip of her nose against the cool glass. She had gasped, the glass fogging under her breath. So pretty, she wished she were big enough to wear it. It was even nicer than the gown Maureen had worn to her coming out that last month.

But she was knocked out of her daydream, of twirling around and around in a cloud of green satin, by a strange little boy in dirty clothes. As he had raced past her a small book had fallen out of his over full bag and landed right beside her polished boots.

"Wait!" she had shouted, scooping up the book, "You dropped…" but the boy did not hear and had kept stalking onwards.

So she had followed him, trailing in his wake the heavy material of her skirts holding her back. It had taken many twists and turns around different corners before she had caught up with him.

But when she had finally reached him, panting with effort, she had held out the book breathlessly whispering, "You dropped this."

The boy had just stared at her, almost blankly. Then he had reached out and snatched the book back, turned and run away, leaving her standing alone huffing her indignation to no one. How could he have been so rude? To knock into her and not apologise was bad enough, but when she had followed him all this way to return his book the least he could have said was thank you. She had turned back the way she came, angrily thinking over just how rude boys could be and how selfish and just how glad she was that she was not one, when she realised that she was walking towards a brick wall. A dead end.

She had paused, her head tilting upwards to look up at the height of the building. She could have sworn that they had come this way.

She retraced her steps, coming out into a completely different courtyard from the one before, where three women were washing rags in a barrel. The women had looked at her with distaste, which had made her all the more indignant. How dare they look at her like that when they looked so dirty?

She had turned quickly and gotten tangled in a brown, stained, sheet hanging from a line. Struggling free she had started to run as panic began to stir within her, the sound of her boots echoing off the close standing buildings.

A man with a cart crossed sharply in front of her, causing her to stumble sideways and crumple. She landed in a puddle her beautiful dress instantly ruined. She could not help the sting of tears as she began to cry. The hot beads blurring her vision as she stood and stumbled forward again.

Turning another sharp corner she slammed into a tall black clothed figure and screamed and screamed, terrified as the man lifted her off her feet to steady her and carried her a little way as she kicked and struggled, barely aware of his attempts to soothe and calm her.

"Miss? Miss?" he had asked but been ignored as she had fought him with all her tiny might.

He had been a policeman and Michaela, in her fine dress had certainly stood out by a mile as 'lost' as she had been tumbled through what could only be classed as the bad side of town.

When she had calmed enough he had escorted her back to the lecture hall to her mother who had been frantic with worry, whilst her friends had fussed and tried to console her with platitudes.

Upon seeing each other the usually reserved pair had almost flown at each other. Michaela burying her face in her mother's breast, whispering over and over how sorry she was.

The policeman had referred to her as wilful and wayward, in such a way that had made Michaela blush with shame. She had only heard Marjorie described with those kinds of words before. Michaela Quinn had always been a good child, unconventional yes, but reliable. But the policeman had softened somewhat when he had witnessed their heartfelt reunion.

Best of all, despite all the odds, the baby her father had deserted her to care for had survived. A little girl, Katherine, and her father had taken her to visit the tiny child a few days later. As she had held the tiny bundle she had suddenly realised, perhaps for the first time, that she was not the centre of the universe, but just a small, but integral part of it. The inadvertent adventure had been quite an eye opener for her younger self.

Back in the present she suddenly grabbed Sully's arm, pulling him around to face her.

"Look!" she shouted, pointing her gloved hand.

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Brian's heart pounded….

There was no blood…

That was his only thought as he raced towards the huddle of skirts that was his sister.

No blood…

She was curled up all funny though, and she was white as a sheet. The axe lay to one side, an untouched log on the stump.

"Colleen?" he whispered, afraid to touch her. She did not stir. "Colleen?" he tried again more frantically, finally reaching for her shoulders.

She still did not open her eyes.

Terrified Brian fell to his knees, scooping up her upper body as best he could.

He gasped when her left wrist fell onto her lap. It was bent horrifically backwards on itself at a very wrong angle.

He rocked her gently, willing away the sting of tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't cry. He had to be his sister's protector, she needed him.

"Colleen?" he tried again, his voice catching.

Her eyes lids flickered.

"Colleen, it's me Brian."

She groaned deeply, and shifted in his arms, the pain in her wrist sharp like knives.

"Don't try to move it," Brian instructed. Thinking hard to see if he knew what Dr. Mike would do.

The wind gusted hard again, swaying the pair.

"Colleen?" her eyes had lolled shut again. "Colleen, we gotta get back inside," he said looking around him desperately, his gaze finally settling on the deep grey rumbling clouds. That storm was coming.

"Do ya think ya can get up?"

"My wrist?" she murmured, drugged with pain. She managed to focus her eyes on her hand. Her stomach lurched and she was only just able to turn her head in time before she heaved again and emptied what little stew had lined her stomach.

Brian patted her back uselessly, as terror and fear fought in him.

"Can ya get up?" he asked again more urgently, wishing more than anything that Dr. Mike was there, or Sully, or Matthew, or anyone.

Tears rolled down his sister's cheeks as she slumped back against him for support. Brian could only watch as shock began to set in and her whole body started to tremble. A lone tear slid down his own cheek as he realised the truth, that he was all she had right now and he had no idea what to do.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I'm just trying something new: Chapters! Hope I managed to load this right! And I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first three chapters! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Four._

He held his hands out and felt the palms glow with the warmth of the fire. That delicious heat travelling up his arms and infusing the whole of his body. It had certainly gotten cold in Colorado Springs lately.

"Matthew!" he suddenly felt tiny arms encircle his leg, and looked down onto the white blond mop top of Ingrid's youngest sister, Greta. "Matthew, dance?" her English a mere smattering of words.

He chuckled to himself, just like her eldest sister!

"All right!" he cried swooping her up into the air, a tiny weight even in the winter coat which was more than too big for her. He took up the proper formation, taking the small fingers of her right hand in his much larger left and keeping her supported with his other arm, only difference being that her feet dangled just below his knees!

She giggled, in the way that only tiny girls can, as he danced them in swirls around and around the fire and the sparse tents of the Immigrant encampment.

After several revolutions the dancing pair arrived by Ingrid who had come to tell them that supper was ready.

"You have a new partner now?" she teased Matthew. "She dances better than I do?" her face was a picture of mock jealousy.

Greta, not understanding the conversation, wriggled free of Matthew's arms and dashed into the tent towards the smell of the food.

"I've saved your dance for later. I still have quite a few of those hurdy-gurdy tickets left to cash in if you remember" he whispered, laughter creasing the corners of his eyes. Lowering his head his lips brushed hers ever so slightly. She flushed, remembering their encounters earlier that day in the barn.

"The food is ready, we will eat now." She said to distract him as she saw him begin to lean in again, and she knew that he had not seen the audience of blond haired sisters who peeped around the opening of the tent. When she took his hand and turned to return to the stove all the little blond heads disappeared in a scramble of giggles.

The meal was simple but nourishing, Jon had been working hard for Mr Bray tending a few of Miss Olive's fields whilst she was away on her cattle drives, so food was not so scarce as it had been in previous times. Ingrid too was doing better with her English and getting a few more lessons from Colleen whilst they sorted the laundry she did for Dr. Mike's clinic.

It pleased him that Colleen got on so well with Ingrid. It meant a great deal to him that his brother and sister like her. It meant even more to him that recently even Dr. Mike had become more accepting of his engagement and their future plans. He would never forget that painful picnic where she had downright forbade him to marry Ingrid. But anyone could see what a beautiful person Ingrid was.

He could not take his eyes off her, the way that the candles on the table caught the gleaming sun in her hair and danced in her blue eyes. He couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else. He would concede that Dr. Mike and Sully had been right about one thing, he knew now that it had been a good decision to wait until he could build Ingrid and her family, his new family, a homestead of their own to live in.

His family. He swelled a little with pride as he looked around the table at the smiling, chewing little faces of her sisters, at Jon knowing what a fine brother-in-law he would make and back to Ingrid. He would be the luckiest man alive the day he became her husband.

Her eyes met his again and he was mesmerised by the way they sparkled with the sweetest smile.

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Robert E kept his eyes on the road ahead, but Grace could not help but look upwards at the dark sky, wondering if they and the children would make it back to town before all the light was gone. The buckboard wagon rattled its way towards the homestead at what seemed like a slower and slower pace. The horses were cold and uncooperative.

The chill that Dorothy had first wondered if she had even felt had become one of a vivid reality. The horses' breath steamed as they plodded forward the earth beneath their hooves becoming more and more solid. Grace curled closer to Robert E.

"We'll be there and home again before you know it" he spoke against the heavy material of her bonnet, knowing that she probably could not hear him, but needing to speak the words out loud. That way he could almost believe them himself.

With a sharp tug on the reigns he steered the horses left, off the larger road onto the smaller one which lead to the little old homestead.

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Brian fell back onto the ground with a pant of frustration. He had been trying to lift Colleen up, in as best a way as he could, so that she might be able to move closer to the house. But Colleen had become groggy again and a dead weight against him.

She had been trying to help him, but her pain had made her dizzy and light headed and getting her further up than sitting was proving much more difficult than it should have been.

"I'm sorry," Colleen moaned, her voice cracking and Brian felt his heart beat like it was going to break. He had only heard his strong, reliable sister sound like that once before, that time she had been lying in Dr. Mike's clinic with frostbitten fingers, and that thought frightened him even more.

He had snuck up to the clinic room just after Sully had found her in the terrible ice storm last winter. Seeing her carried into the clinic like that had horrified him, he had just needed to see her to make sure she was all right. He had stood peering in at the doorway completely unnoticed in all the chaos. She had been sitting up on the examination table and Dr. Mike had been dipping her fingers into a bowl of warm water whilst Colleen had been sobbing about sending Sully away. He had never seen Colleen in such a panic before and he still did not understand why. Then he had been shooed away by Miss Olive and into the care of his brother, Dr Mike had come outside and explained about Colleen's frostbite and he had never gotten the chance to ask, his mind all at once distracted by the thought that Colleen may never be able to fulfil her dream of becoming a lady doctor.

"Are you ready to try again yet?" Brian asked softly, not wanting to push her, but feeling the urgency of their situation increase.

"What's that?" Colleen mumbled. Brian froze holding his breath so that he could listen more clearly. He turned his head away from her, peering into the trees that lined the dirt road which lead up to the homestead.

Frowning he whispered, "I don't hear nothin'"

"No, look!" Colleen whispered, her quiet voice tinged with confused awe.

The tiniest of tiny snowflakes had begun to spiral down from the dark clouds.

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Matthew gently tucked the last of Ingrid's sisters into the little bed, all five tiny heads headed off to slumber on just two pillows.

Putting the girls to bed never seemed like putting Brian and Colleen to bed when they were little. As a boy bedtimes had been a chore, even with such a strong determined mother like Charlotte Cooper. Maybe it had been because his mother had always been so busy with running the Boarding House all by herself, but bedtimes it seemed were the only event that could really test her patience. Brian would always whine for more milk, or another story, whilst Colleen would flounce and sulk wanting to know why Matthew could stay up longer than she could.

How many times had he wished that he could have gone to bed sooner? It had been on those quiet evenings, after his brothers and sisters had fallen into their slumbers, that he had seen his mother at her lowest. Especially in the months after their father had gone. She had tried to keep it from them as much as she could, but sometimes her pain could not help but spill over her carefully constructed dam.

Many was the time that he had crept downstairs into the kitchen and found her crying over the book that she calculated the Boarding House expenses in. Keeping as quiet as she could always careful not to let on to the stragglers and waifs who drifted in and out of their home. He would do the only thing that always made him feel better. He would reach up and wrap his tiny arms around her back and hug her as tight as he could.

Then things had gotten a little better for a while and then Dr. Mike had come into their lives, their first lady boarder, and then things had taken their terrible turn.

The first few weeks at the homestead, they all now called home, without their mother had been the time that had put their previous troubles into perspective. All three of them had grown up and changed and had to adapt to their new life without any say in the matter. Not that they had not tried, what with his defiance, Colleen's sullen moods and Brian's running for the hills. But he was proud to live with Dr. Mike now; he finally saw what his mother had seen in her when she had demanded that Dr. Mike be their carer. He was grateful for all she had done for them, and now he could be grateful for what lay in his future because of all she had taught him.

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The horses were willed just a little faster, seeing the faint light from the homestead windows was like a warming beacon to the wagon. Each spirit, be it man, woman or beast, could not help but feel lighter at the sweetness of the little glowing windows. It was not far now; the first flakes of snow had started to fall, melting instantly into a dewy coat on the exposed mane of each horse.

"What's that?" asked Grace, her voice straining to be heard. She raised her hand in the direction of a small bundle of clothing in front of the house. Robert E followed her fingers, squinting through the semi darkness.

"Oh Lord!" Grace cried, as they got closer, Robert E violently whipping the reigns to drive the horses faster. "It's the children!" she shouted, as she flung her raised hand tightly against her breast.

The horses careered to a stop, the wagon shunting forward for a moment, almost knocking Grace to the ground as she tried to jump down in her panic.

"Brian! Colleen!" she shouted as she ran towards the huddled pair. Robert E on her heels, both panting in the cold air.

Brian, who had already turned towards the sound of the approaching cavalry, was shaking Colleen in his excitement and relief. "They're here," he sobbed, "They're here Colleen. It's gonna be alright"

Grace fell to her knees beside the pair, hugging both tightly, whilst Robert E crouched down asking, "What happened?"

"Colleen's arm…" Brian said between his sobbing, heaving breaths. "She hurt it choppin' the wood. I should have been choppin' the wood," his voice was full of misery and guilt.

"Nonsense," murmured Grace, gently cradling his head under her neck, caressing her fingers through his soft blond hair, whilst Robert E moved closer to Colleen.

Grace looked to Robert E who was delicately trying to lift Colleen's arm a little to take a look, whilst Colleen with a desperate, pleading look murmured, "no, no, no, no, no."

The look on Robert E's face said it all. It was bad, a serious brake.

"I couldn't get her back in the house," Brian whimpered against Grace's neck. "She kept gettin' all dizzy when she tried to stand up and then she got sick."

"Don't you worry now Brian, we came to take you back into town for the night. There's a real bad storm comin'" Robert E said his calm voice belying his deeper concerns.

"Matthew?" Colleen murmured, "Matthew didn't come back." She was fighting drowsiness again, her words slurring.

"He went to Ingrid's" Brian confirmed. "Said he was comin' right back."

Grace shared a look with her husband. "I'm sure he stayed near town, thought the two of you would be alright at home together." Robert E attempted to placate their fears.

"Robert E?" Grace said, drawing his attention, she communicated so easily with him without words. They had to head back to town, and now.

"Let's get you in the wagon," he said gently to Colleen, scooping her and her rose patterend skirts up, as she cradled her damaged arm fearful of more pain, and walked slowly to the wagon. He placed her down into the nest of wool blankets Grace had arranged and rearranged in a third of the time it had taken him to saddle up the horses.

Grace helped Brian to his feet and sent him towards the wagon. His little legs wobbling like a young deer from sitting too long in the same position in such cold.

"Pup!" cried Brian suddenly remembering. He turned and ran back to the homestead, following Grace up the steps. He shouted Pup's name from the doorway and the young dog bounded over to Brian's feet, as Grace blew out the oil lamps.

"Come on Pup!" Brian grabbed the wiggling grey bundle of fluff and struggled with him back outside and up onto the buckboard beside his sister, Grace climbed in beside the siblings. The mother hen, fussing and pulling the blankets around the children.

Robert E, yanked hard on the reigns with a shout and the horses moved forward.

"Wait!" cried Brian. Looking back at the house. "Look, it's Wolf!"

Sully's faithful companion had come bounding into the clearing by the barn.

"Ma?" Shouted Brian, his voice echoing back to them, as Robert E, drew the horses up sharply.

But Wolf was alone.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first four chapters! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Five._

"Are you ready for that dance?" Matthew whispered. He had just slipped through the drape that separated the sleeping area of Ingrid's home into the smaller living area, where she stood with her back to him washing the plates from their meal in a metal bucket.

With their sisters' asleep, Jon had made some curious excuses and quickly vanished, disappeared as if he could not get out of there fast enough. Matthew could not help but wonder if there was a young lady involved, but was more than grateful for the chance to be with Ingrid alone once more.

He placed his warm hand gently on her shoulder squeezing lightly before stepping up closer behind her. Her fingers stilled in the water as she took a slow breath. He then caressed his fingers teasingly down along the fabric of her sleeve, the material worn soft with use, following the graceful curve of her arm until he could entwine his fingers with her more delicate ones, lifting her hands out of the lukewarm water.

"Matthew…" she sighed tiredly, for it had been a long day.

"Shhhh," he whispered soothingly as he carefully dried her wash reddened fingers with a scrap of old towelling.

"Just one dance," he whispered again, turning her in the circle of his arms, embracing her tightly and keeping her close. He began to rock her gently from side to side. Ingrid sighed once again, closing her eyes as his warm fingers travelled up into her soft hair and he guided her head perfectly under his chin. She breathed him in deeply.

Their romantic moment was disturbed by the faint murmur of one of her sisters stirring in their bed. Stepping back from Matthew, Ingrid drifted to the drape, but her sister had settled again, and she could not even tell which one it had been.

"Here," Matthew whispered even quieter than before. He held out her heavy coat. "Lets go outside"

Ingrid glanced anxiously back at the little ones.

"We will only be just outside." Matthew promised with such sincerity that she could not refuse him. She let him guide her into her coat and stood smiling shyly at him as she watched him shrug on his own with such casual ease. It was nice, so nice spending time with him like this. Just spending time with someone who put her first was so luxurious, and such precious quiet time was to be savoured, enjoyed, treasured. Especially as she knew he must return in a short while to his own siblings.

"Here" he whispered again, tugging her coat higher up around her neck, lifting her woollen scarf from the chair and tangling it about her like you would a child. He laughed softly, letting his fingers tease over the warm skin of her neck and the curve of her cheek as he worked. She gently moved her cheek against his palm like a cat, turning to press a soft kiss against his fingers.

Matthew smiled, caressing her cheek once more, stroking her hair back behind her ear and pausing with a silent look of surprise as he gently withdrew his fingers to produce a slightly worn, but very precious scrap of paper.

"I believe this is for you."

A dance ticket. He had been carrying it with him since that first hurdy gurdy evening long ago.

Ingrid's eyes welled up with unshed tears as she reached up and took hold of his face, and was suddenly dropping gentle, quick kisses all over his cheeks, eyelids, forehead, lips, until he wiggled free, laughing and blushing slightly from all the attention.

Taking her hand with a smile he tugged her in the direction of the larger privacy of the evening, they stepped out through the tents flap and froze, shaking their heads in disbelief.

Huge snowflakes were spiralling down from the deep night sky. The ground was already covered with a thin dusting of white powder and the fire Matthew and Greta had waltzed around had fizzled completely out.

Matthew heard Ingrid gasp again this time with delight as she clasped his hand tightly in-between both of hers, jumping with excitement.

"Snow!" she cried out. "Like home" and he knew she was thinking of Sweden. Dropping Matthew's hand she spun on her heels and dashed back into the tent.

But Matthew remained outside as the reality of the situation sank in. That thing that had been dancing around on the periphery of his consciousness had suddenly leapt into the fore. There was no way that he would be able to get back to Colleen and Brian at the homestead tonight.

He felt like his chest had sunk in. He would be in real trouble because this. He had faithfully promised Dr. Mike that he would not leave his brother and sister again when she was away. He had laughed at her request that he remember to watch out for them and he had almost sneered at her concerns.

And then he had completely dismissed them all.

The thought came unbidden, rippling through his mind. Of course Dr. Mike had been right to doubt him, look what he had done again………

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The Buckboard was even heavier for the horses to pull now that their precious cargo consisted of not only the children; but Wolf and Pup too. The horses, pulled and strained, cruelly on their own reins. No one should be out in conditions such as these.

Colleen lay in a cradle of Brian and Grace's arms half conscious again, whilst Wolf rested his nose against her knee, occasionally whimpering, confused about what was hurting the girl. Brian hugged Pup to him, keeping him close as much for his own heat as for the puppy's.

The material blanketing them was damp with melted snow, and the sharp icy wind blew against the dampness freezing each to their bones.

The wagon rolled on over an uneven patch in the road and Colleen awoke with a cry. The pain in her wrist increasing with each moment. The jolting and shuddering of the wheels on slippery, stony ground, quaking right through them.

"I know, I know," Grace tried to soothe her. "We have to get back to town. It can't be far now. We'll be there before you know it." She continued, her eyes meeting Robert E's for a moment in the dim light from the lantern, which swung by his head.

There was nothing he could do or say.

It was funny, Grace had often longed for days like this when she was a girl. Living in the Deep South she had never seen real snow and the idea of a winter wonderland was so wholly different to the world she knew. She used to lie in the shade of a tree on the hottest days of summer and give herself chilly goosebumps with imaginings of ice skating on a frozen lake, of snowball fights and of curling up by a warm fire with a loved one as the snow fell outside the window like those fancy glass ornaments she had seen in expensive catalogues.

Tonight would have been the perfect opportunity to fulfil that last dream with Robert E.

She shook herself mentally, how could she ever have had such a selfish thought like that? She felt a dart of shame. What if they had not come out to look for the children? She closed her eyes to prevent herself from thinking more about what could have happened.

She could just about ring Matthew's neck for leaving them alone like that. The echoing thought that maybe he too was out there in the storm trying to get back to the homestead took flight inside her. She reached into her scarf and clutched at the cross she always wore with her gloved fingers. She closed her eyes once more as she sent up a silent prayer that Matthew be safe, and begged God to keep them all safe.

As if it was a sign from heaven itself Brian suddenly shouted, " Look!" startling them all.

In the very faint distance, through the swirling clouds of white flakes there could just be made out a thin strip of twinkling light.

Colorado Springs.

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"What?" Shouted Sully, squinting against the onslaught of snowflakes that caught in his eyelashes and in his mouth. He could not make out what she was pointing towards.

But Michaela was insistent. "There!" she shouted back, "Next to the rise."

Sully squinted again. Shaking his head in confusion. What was she seeing? Could it be an illusion like those lost in a desert see, could she be imagining a mirage in the dunes of snow?

Steadfast in the knowledge that she was right, she tugged on his arm again as she set off. Leading him in the direction she had been pointing. He had no choice but to follow.

As they slowly meandered their way across the lower ground he found he could barely keep up with her stride. Her strength had been restored, however temporarily, by her joy at thought of being saved.

Filled with a feeling akin to Peak Fever she forced her tired body forward, slipping and sliding over the snow, still sinking with every new footstep she took. Sully plodded behind her, still worried that they were wasting precious time and he could not distinguish what she had been pointing so frantically at however hard he tried.

Michaela pulled up sharp, just slightly ahead of him, her hands coming up to press against her head through the outside of her shawl, in frustration.

Thank goodness he thought, she had finally come to the realisation that she was mistaken.

It only took a few more seconds before Sully stood beside her.

Suddenly he saw what she had seen. An opening in the side of a snow covered rise over by a pair of large trees.

She was right.

But, of course, there was a problem. Michaela had halted by a sudden dip in the flat ground before them. Falling to her knees in the snow, she reached out with her gloved hands and rubbed away at the ground confirming her worst suspicions.

Sully knelt down beside her as under her fingers she revealed the frozen surface of a small river. Under the uppermost layer of frozen ice rushed the powerful flow of deep water.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first five chapters! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Six._

There was nothing more painful to her in that moment than knowing that something was just beyond her grasp. That she could reach out and just miss the object she most desired, the key to their survival.

Sully saw Michaela slump further forward, all the energy he had just seen pounding through her seemed to have been sapped right through her fingers and straight into the powerful flood beneath.

She remained stretched out in that odd position, knees in the snow, leaning over the bank, her hands flat against the powdered ice. It looked to him like all her fight was ebbing out of her.

Then out of nowhere her anger boiled.

Barely aware of Sully's presence she began to pound her palms against the ice, harder and harder, her whole body shaking with the effort. Her breath sobbing out of her with each heartfelt blow.

Sully could not take his eyes off her.

The cold slowing his reactions it was only the heart-breaking crash of her hands fracturing the frozen surface, accompanied by her scream as the ice barrier gave way into ice water and Sully only just caught her shoulders in time preventing her from falling headfirst into the fissure she had created.

Dragging her away from the bank they landed hard, with her back against his chest, knocking the wind out of him once again.

He felt her body go limp against his as sobs of fear and shock over took her. She could not believe she had been so stupid, so angry, so abandoned.

Within a few moments, before he had even had time to catch his breath in order to speak, she had rolled off him and away onto the snow on her back. She had drawn her arms up over her face to shield herself from the weather and to hide herself from Sully. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart as the adrenaline rushed and beat through her.

Shame flooded her at her actions. She knew she had endangered not only herself, but by extension him, in her fit of frustration. How could she have let herself get so… so…

Crawling cautiously over to her, the snow melting against the knees of his buckskin trousers, he prised her arms away from her face. Her eyes were tightly shut. Holding her hands to her sides he leaned his body over hers.

Trapped, but feeling his intensity, there was nothing left to do but to open her eyes to look directly into him. Seeing the fear, concern and interest that flooded the blue.

He leaned closer to speak into her ear, her eyes drifted closed automatically, in response to his nearness, as she waited.

"It's alright!" he shouted, trying to sooth, trying to comfort, but all she could concentrate on was the feeling of his eyelashes against her cold cheek.

"Help me find something to test the width of the river with," he instructed. "It might be just a stream. We could jump!" he shouted, a plan forming.

He drew back from her to see her face, his eyelashes brushing against hers in a butterfly kiss.

She nodded as he lifted off her and began to scour the landscape around them for any small trees.

Still off balance, and a little dazed from such an intense burst of energy and confused by her rescue and then her confinement, she reacted slowly. By the time she had sat up Sully had already climbed another bank, just a way from the river, and was pulling his tomahawk out from the belt under his coat. She sat in the snow just watching as he brutally severed some of the branches.

Soon he came stumbling back to her, two huge branches held in his arms, a look of triumphant glee plastered across his face.

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The town of Colorado Springs was working steadily, with the community spirit of a people who know they are about to come under threat. Neighbours and friends, and enemies and strangers all worked side-by-side to reinforce as many cracks and missing roof slats as they could.

Loren was driven to distraction with more customers than he had time to serve and less stock than he had had since the last stagecoach strike. Whilst Dorothy, flitted between the shelves like a red headed sprite, managing to magic up things which met the desperate requests of the bedraggled customers.

Hank watched the disarray with amusement as he casually leaned against Myra. He trapped her against the railing of his Saloon, keeping her a prisoner when she desperately wanted to help out. He had already had to forbid her from going to help once and then when he had caught her attempting to sneak out whilst he had served a whiskey he had become so annoyed that now he was forcibly keeping her beside him.

It amused him all the more that despite the chaos of a snowstorm of papers in the telegraph office which Horace seemed to be creating all by himself, the Telegraph Operator's gaze had not wandered far from the Saloon and the woman that Hank held against the wooden rail with his hips. He rocked against Myra suggestively, cocking his head in Horace's direction and a grin broke out across his face at the look of horror and indignation that he received.

"Hank!" Myra attested, but she knew that however hard she protested against him, he still owned her and still she would not be allowed to go anywhere.

The Reverend busied himself in the meadow by the church, ushering in the stragglers of his flock, who would never make it back to their distant homesteads, and had sought shelter in God's welcoming house. In a charitable outpouring many had come to donate small food parcels and spare blankets to those who would be homeless in town until the storm passed.

Jake, having been Loren's first customer had managed to garner an impressive selection of candles and oil for his lamps, and two blankets and a range of tinned produce. All of which he carefully guarded behind the closed doors of his shop. He too stood watching the chaos from his doorway, nodding occasionally across at Hank when a passing townsperson in panic happened to amuse.

It was down upon this community of goodness and evil that the heavens opened and down came the first spiralling frozen flakes of snow.

For a long while after that moment, all became still as faces lifted upwards to the deep sky, and then down back to their business in a more hurried fashion as a collective hush fell over the place and the ground began to turn into an innocent white slate in the silence.

Then into that quiet came a racing wagon, driven with skill by Robert E.

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That look on his face reminded her so much of little Brian, she felt a pang for her children. Matthew had promised, she reminded herself. Sully gave her that smile again. There was so much of a little boy in him, what with is adventures and his resourceful ideas!

He came to lay flat, out on the ground beside her, wiggling forward until just his nose hovered over the edge of the water, the heavy hood of his coat, hanging low over his eyes. Careful to remain a reasonable distance from the ice fishing hole she had made earlier.

He stretched out; feeding the branch through his fingers and began inching the tip through the now somewhat heavier dusting of snow on the surface of the water. Inching his upper body forward too.

Slowly, slowly, he kept moving the wood further and further, until finally, just before he had extended his arm fully, still against the ground to his waist, the branch pressed against what had to be the bank on the other side.

He turned, beaming up at her, that boyish look back, despite the snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes. Still watching her he reached out his hand and taking hers brought it to the branch. Holding her hand beneath his he pressed the branch into the far bank again so that she understood.

"We can jump!" he shouted!

She shook her head. Dislodging the snow that had built up on her scarf. He just had to be crazy. They could barely see the other side, let alone guarantee that where they jumped to that the bank would be in the same place.

"We can do it!" he shouted again.

She kept shaking her anxious head.

Drawing back, bringing his stick with him he scrambled to her. Kneeling before her he cupped her face in his gloved hands as she continued to try and shake her head against them.

"We can do this."

And looking into his eyes she suddenly believed that they could.

He saw the change flicker and gave her no longer to think about it.

"I'll go first," he shouted. "Then I can catch you."

Then he was pulling them up and pulling her away from the edge. He picked up the extra branch and threw it with ease over the water. Both pairs of eyes followed its trajectory.

He took one of her freezing hands in his for a moment, and then with one last squeeze of encouragement he let her hand go and taking a running jump leaped easily over the water and onto the opposite bank.

She hesitated. Watching him wave her encouragingly from the safety of the other side. She could do this.

She lowered her face, collecting herself. Then taking a deep shuddering breath she ran and took her leap of faith.

As she left the ground her eyes searched out Sully's desperate for the reassurance that she was doing the right thing.

Olive and brown met piercing blue, just as she touched down. Crashing right through the supposed bank, the surface breaking into a million pieces.

She had leapt straight into the hidden depths of what the river fed, a small but deep, natural reservoir.

It was freezing water that enveloped her body, not his strong arms. Water that rushed into her mouth and her nose as the sharp knife-like pain instantly numbed her senses and muted her scream.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first six chapters! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Seven._

Crossing the floor Ingrid lifted her heavy peach skirts as she climbed up onto her sisters' bed. She tucked a strand of her blond hair back from her face, as the tired mattress groaned with the extra weight and she could not hold back her smile as Greta stirred.

"Wake up," Ingrid whispered, leaning over she reached out to gently shake each shoulder. "Wake up, there is a surprise outside."

The five little heads began to shift, grumbling softly having been woken just as they were falling into the deepest sleep.

"Come on!" Ingrid whispered louder. She bounced on the bed, once, hard causing Greta to sleepily return her smile. All the girls were opening their eyes now and blinking in confusion in the dim light.

Ingrid, the most excited of the six, jumped back up and began pulling the girls coats out of a hamper and throwing them onto the bed creating a pile of garments on top of the reluctant sleepers.

"Boots, coats, come on!" She said in a voice just louder than her regular one, the excitement bubbling through.

"Come on, come on!" She said her voice adopting a singsong tone, as she yanked back the blankets and began to push a pair of boots onto the nearest pair of feet.

Greta, caught up in the excitement of being allowed out of bed after bedtime, was hurriedly stamping her feet into her own boots. Her favourite thing in the world was a surprise and in her hurry she had managed to pull on her boots all by herself, but just the wrong boot for the wrong foot and she began waddling around her sisters giggling when she realised, before Ingrid halted her chaos causing to switch them right.

The excited squealing Swedish chatter of the girls as they tumbled out of the tent and into the snow brought Matthew out of his thoughts.

He watched as the quart rushed out into the winter wonderland, their faces a picture. They joined hands in a circle and danced around and around and around, the wafting bottoms of their nightdresses hanging below their heavy winter coats, blurring them into the snow like imps or fairies, as with bright eyes they stuck out their tongues to catch snowflakes. But even their sweetness could not lighten the heaviness in his chest.

"Matthew?" Ingrid touched his shoulder, sensing his quiet brooding. "What is wrong?"

Matthew looked down at his gloves before he answered, picking at a loose thread on the thumb. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye.

"What is it?"

He sighed. "I did something." He shifted uncomfortably, dragging out the moment when he would have to admit to it. With an even heavier sigh he continued, "I wasn't supposed to leave Colleen and Brian tonight. I promised Dr. Mike that I would stay with them today, that I wouldn't… and I…" His voice trailed off as he focused on nothing in particular in the distance.

"Matthew!" He could see Ingrid's look of shocked disappointment without seeing her face. Just knowing that he had done something wrong, yet again, and to know that she must surely be thinking badly of him, made it all the more painful.

He shrugged away from her touch, so ashamed that he could not even bare her gentle affection. He did not deserve it.

"But you did not say that you had to get back in a hurry. You said you had time, that you would stay for some supper." Ingrid said with slow disbelief.

"I know!" Matthew shouted, much louder than he had expected too and the dancing sprites all stopped to peer in his direction.

Ingrid took his arm and led him further away from her sisters to a more conspicuous distance.

"I have to go to them now." He stated, pulling on his determined face at the same time as pulling his arm from her grasp.

"No!" Ingrid's response surprised him. "You cannot go, the storm is too bad to go so far."

"They are my responsibility, I have to go back, I shouldn't have left them on their own in the first place." Matthew attested.

"You will not make it. You cannot go all the way out there in this weather." Ingrid's voice grew more desperate. "I am sure that Colleen and Brian will be alright. They will be playing in the snow, or sitting by the fire. Colleen is good with Brian, she will look after him."

"I should be looking after him!"

He saw Ingrid flinch at the acid tone in his voice. He knew what she was thinking - that he was neglecting his responsibilities to be with her, and always selfless in her behaviour towards those she loved she would be feeling guilty, that her evening with him was at the possible expense of the safety of his brother and sister - and that only made him feel worse.

He reached for her, desperate to regain the closeness and affection from earlier, but she remained guarded in his arms, tense almost, only allowing him to hold her close for a moment as he whispered, "I'm sorry," against her hair, before she slipped away from him.

"Ingrid!"

The shout of the eldest of her sisters pierced the air.

Both heads spun away from their own problems, searching out the source. The girls were all huddled around something on the ground. Panic raced through Ingrid as they both started to run toward the group, their feet slipping and sliding on the soft ground.

Once they reached the little gathering, Ingrid reached out and pulled them apart, falling to her knees at the sight of little Greta lying in the snow, the whole of her tiny body shaking as she desperately fought for her breath. The excitement had gotten too much for her.

"Greta, Greta baby," Ingrid lifted her, raising her little arms up, imitating the way in which Dr. Mike had helped her to relax when she had had attacks herself. Poor Greta just looked pleadingly at her, as she tried harder and harder to breath, her lips turning from pink to a dangerous shade of blue.

"Matthew, her asthma!" Ingrid's own pleading eyes turned towards the only person she could count on to help her.

He had to put his fears about his siblings aside; had to put his selfish worries aside. He lifted Greta's limp body from Ingrid's arms.

"We'll take her to town! There will be plenty of Dr. Mike's medicine at the clinic to help her." He said, immediately taking charge of proceedings. It was a great distraction, taking his mind of Brian and Colleen and giving Ingrid the freedom to fuss over Greta at the same time, and it gave him the chance to prove he could be truly useful to someone.

Asking the sky for forgiveness he set off carefully forcing his way through the snowy ground cover towards town with the precious weight in his arms. Ingrid followed, hurrying her other sisters as they skidded along, with worried little faces. There had to be someone in town who could help them. For he felt like he was coming up short once again.

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"Michaelllllllllaaaaaa!"

The pain and terror in his voice echoed across the plains of snow.

The arms he had held out to catch her had been just too far away. The weight of her coat as it had lifted upon her landing had sent her slightly off course.

He had been unable to do anything but watch as she came crashing down, her eyes so full of hope, had been burning into his just moments before and then she had been gone.

He had been so sure she would make it, he had convinced her to do it and she had trusted him completely.

And then he had done nothing but stare in horror as she had gone completely under, surfaced again momentarily, her face frozen in a terrible scream and then he was running before he even registered it, falling to the ground and sliding to a halt just metres from the second gaping hole she had created.

A violent splutter burst forth, showering him with icy spray as she flailed, barely breaking the surface of the water.

Crawling forward on his belly he moved closer and closer. His breathing harsh and heavy. Desperate, but knowing that he could not fall through the ice himself or they would never make it.

He was still on the bank where he lay, the faint realisation of just how close she had come to almost making it flashed through his mind as he leaned over the hole, plunging his arms into the freezing reservoir below.

Under the thick water he felt her weakly flailing arm brush against his hands, the water temperature sending numbing pain racing up through his fingers. He tried to capture her arm but she moved too quickly, it was too slippery and then she was gone again.

He fished for her for only a few more seconds before he took the deepest breath and plunged his entire upper body into the hole.

In moments he was crashing back through the ice his arms banded tightly around her tiny waist. Throwing back his hair in a shower of sleet, as the sodden strands of it half froze meeting the temperatures in the air around them.

Keeping his hold on Michaela he dragged her unconscious body inch my inch out of the water and fell back away from the hole gasping with the effort, her soaking weight a pressure on his chest.

She was not breathing. Rolling her onto her back beside him he tilted her neck back and drew a shuddering breath as he felt panic and wracking spasms from the cold set in.

Bending at the waist he lowered his mouth to hers. Breathing what little warm breath he had into her, feeling her lips, blue like the ice against him.

Nothing happened.

He took another shaky breath, tried again. Pushing the air out of his burning lungs in a rush.

Still nothing.

He ripped back her coat, pressing his ear against her breast; he could feel the slow, but faint beat of her heart against his cheek. Gathering her body to his chest, cradling her close, he pressed his forehead to hers for a moment, feeling just how cold the skin was, as he panted trying to collect enough air to begin again.

Held in his arms she shook once, violently and he quickly lowered her back to the ground gently, looking down at her in desperate confusion as her body suddenly surged upwards, a stream of water came pouring and gurgling out of her mouth, as she gasped a rasping breath and her eyes flew open wide in shock and terror. Then she slumped back against the snow, her heavy eyelids drooping closed again. He leaned down, his face millimetres from her lips, frantically checking that he could feel the light breeze of her breath, and that her chest still rose slightly with each effort.

She was alive, she was breathing, and he could not even begin to comprehend all the emotions that burst through him.

He drew her soaking coat back up over her chest, his fingers fumbling with the buttons through his gloves in his relief and then he shrugged off his own partially sodden coat. Draping it over her, tucking it in under and around her body. Fighting the painful chill that rushed over him, the animal skin garment and thin shirt her wore were no barrier against the unforgiving pelting of snowflakes. He did not matter right now.

He made one last dip down over her to check she was still breathing, although he was reluctant to leave her he knew he had to. He stood and taking his branch used it to lean on as he forced himself across the distance that separated him from the opening in the side of the rise that Michaela had seen; that to him now seemed like forever ago. He had to battle to remain standing upright against the more powerful wind that drove across this exposed area of higher ground.

All that mattered was getting her to a safe shelter. He could not yet guarantee that what she had seen would be such a place. Could not risk carrying her all this way if it was not to be their salvation.

Getting closer Sully saw that it was a small alcove, which was far enough back into the rise to be protected from the winds that blew, but the depth of it was unfathomable, he could not see into the farthest reaches.

With a final concerned glance towards Michaela, who he could just make out in the distance through the haze, he moved to the entrance. Crouching low he extended the branch into the cave and swung it widely. Just waiting for any kind of response. He knew that he could expect anything. This little cave would make the perfect hideaway for all kinds of wild beast. He shouted, a low growl, which echoed back at him, reverberating off the walls. Nothing. He made one last sweep with the branch and then he dropped it to the ground, finally satisfied that the cave contained no unwanted guests, and then he took off back to Michaela, staggering and stumbling in his urgency.

Reaching her fell into the snow beside her brushing away the snowflakes that had gathered across her face and was relieved to feel her stir in response to his touch.

He saw her mouth his name, deliriously, and he pressed his lips to her ear shouting, "I'm here, I'm sorry, I'm here," as he inched his hands under her body, gathering her close.

Then with a groaning heave he lifted her, knees bent and hurriedly began back to the alcove. Each weighted step more hazardous than the one before. His progress slow, but for her he would never stop trying.

He finally reached the entrance after what felt like an eternity, and dipping low he carried her a little way into the cave, gently laying her into a pile of dried leaves that must have blown in there in the autumn. As he lifted away his nose brushed the side of hers and she nuzzled against him, murmuring, her breath still slow and faint. Her body was trembling with shock from her prolonged exposure to the water. He drew his coat tighter around her.

The muscles of his upper arms burned with relief now that they were at once free of their burden, but there was no time to waste. Removing his tomahawk from his belt he returned outside, coming back quickly with his branch, bringing with it more wood that he had found around and about.

With one eye on his task and the other on Michaela he began frantically chipping away the wetter outer layers of the wood to reach the drier centre beneath, a pile of shavings and small firewood began to collect under his hands.

Drawing some of the leaves from beside Michaela he created a little mountain to be their pyre. Mindful that he did not want to smoke them out, or build it too close to the entrance so that it blew out with any gusts of wind.

Collecting a small pile of stones from around the cave he encircled his mountain, keeping one larger, harder stone aside. He then struck the hard stone sharply against the metal blade of his tomahawk, at first creating nothing but dust, but upon trying again and again he finally created a tiny spark.

The soft, dried leaves caught quickly, with Sully blowing them in encouragement. And soon a faint glow illuminated the damp gloom of the shelter, allowing him to see much more clearly, but not yet offering much in the way of heat.

He moved back over to Michaela, his own body beginning to tremble with the cold and with the knowledge of what they had just survived; which had begun to bear heavily down upon him. He knew that the worst was not over yet.

Michaela's lips were still a deep shade of purply-blue and the strands of her golden hair were half damp, half frozen. The leaves he had placed her into were clinging to the damp puddle that was forming beneath her. She simply could not stay in those soaking wet clothes. He needed to remove at least her outer layers of clothing.

Such a personal decision, he could not be sure that she would be happy with it. She certainly might not be comfortable with a man undressing her, even if it was a man she trusted. It was a medical decision and so she should be the one making it. She who would know the consequences, the possible sickness that could prevail from this kind of exposure.

He could not help but think that if it had not been for him and his distraction with her that she could have been the one deciding for herself. He should have seen this storm coming, should not have given in to her demands to keep going to the Reservation when he knew she was almost a wilderness novice. Although he found that he could not fault that it was in fact she who had spotted them this shelter after all.

He had no more time in which to dwell. He needed to make a decision.

Crouching down over her he removed his gloves before lifting his own slightly wet coat up just enough to manoeuvre his hands beneath it. The feel of the wet materials under his fingers was all it took to make the decision for him. He had to do this, she needed it, whether she would like it or not.

His hands had begun to tremble for an altogether different reason, and he could not draw his eyes away from the way that the new flames from the fire danced light across her innocent face.

Taking a calming breath he lifted his blanketing coat a little more as ever so slowly he began to undo the buttons that lay beneath.


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first seven chapters!! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Eight._

The entrance of Robert E and his wagon full of precious cargo had caused quite a stir as it rumbled, full speed into the main street of Colorado Springs. A large group of townsfolk braved the swirling snowstorm to come rushing out to help them.

Robert E set about reining the horses to the post outside the clinic, whilst Grace gathered Colleen to her, whispering that they were there and that she needed to climb down from the wagon to go inside. Seeing Grace struggle to hurriedly coax Colleen down from the wagon, Hank came striding over from his post at the saloon. Moving Grace aside with surprising gentleness, he gathered up Colleen.

"Jake! Get over here!" Hank shouted to the shadowy figure on the stoop by the barbers shop. Jake, who unlike the others had not come to help, but just to investigate at the doorway of his shop, looked towards Hank in interest. It was only when he saw that something was indeed wrong with the girl that he actually heeded Hank's call. He was, after all, the only source of medical expertise in town when Dr. Mike was away and he valued any opportunity to remind people of that.

"What happened?" Shouted Loren appearing by the wagon too, just as Hank lifted Colleen's sobbing, frail form. With Grace on his heels mindful that he was being careful, Hank carried her over towards the doorway of the clinic. Brian, with such an exhausted little face trailing behind them, keeping close to Grace's skirts.

"Mr. Bray!" cried Brian, relieved to see another familiar face. "It's Colleen, she hurt her herself, it's real bad." His little voice was small and so full of worry that Loren impulsively reached out a hand to squeeze his small, bird-wing shoulder. In the presence of the other townsfolk he kept his affection to a restrained touch bestowed as discreetly as he could. Would not want anyone to think he was getting soft in his old age. But he could not just pretend he did not see the look of pain quite clearly and openly expressed on the little boys face. He knew he had to do something to appease the awkward feeling of the unwanted pangs of sympathy which came unbidden.

Jake had reached the clinic first and tried the door, but it would not budge, the wood was swollen with the weather. Trying again, much harder he forced his shoulder against the door, but it remained stuck fast and withstood a few more violent rams, until it finally gave way beneath his bodily force and he fell forward a little as the heavy door swung open.

Hank and the crowd brushed past Jake without a second thought. "I'm alright," Jake commented, bent double, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, but no one paid him any consideration.

Grace fussed around, lighting the oil lamps and wall lamps with matches and tapers, making herself feel useful in a situation where she flailed just out of her depth, as Hank moved further into the dimly lit room.

As Hank placed Colleen onto the examining table in the centre of the room all eyes looked to one another, suddenly realising that with Dr. Mike gone there was no one to take charge. Each looked to the other, expecting and half wishing that someone else would be the one to be brave and speak up.

"The books," a mumble came from the least likely candidate, Colleen herself. "Dr. Mike's books. You'll have to plaster my wrist." Her soft voice fading out.

Grace lent down to her, unfurling the blanket from her body, her eyes meeting those of the nearest adult, who happened to be Hank, with a look of worry when she saw the full extent of Colleen's injuries.

"The text books, they're on the table by Dr. Mike's desk," Colleen continued her words flowing out on her sigh of pain which changed the 'esk' sound into a hiss.

Looking confusedly at the pile of heavy leather bound books by them, Hank and Jake's gaze moved to look shiftily at one another. Neither could volunteer their services in finding the correct book and passage. Neither could, or would, call upon their courage and admit that they could not read a word.

"What happened?" came a shout from the doorway of the clinic as Horace stumbled his way into the room in a gust of wind and snowflakes. "I saw the wagon come racing in." he finished, removing his hat as he saw Colleen lying on the table and got his first glimpse of her injured arm. "Lord," he breathed.

"Here," said Hank, thrusting one of the medical books against Horace's chest with a thump. "Gonna need ya, to find us the potion for mixing us up some plaster. We is gonna fix her right up." Hank promised the room with his best comforting nod in Colleen's direction.

Colleen looked to Grace, apprehension tingeing her expression, both at Hank's announcement and at the idea of more pain.

"I think you might have to set it first." Colleen admitted, as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth at the prospect.

"I'll do it," Jake's voice spoke up bringing an end to the uncomfortable silence that had followed Colleen's diagnosis.

As he moved closer to Colleen, he kept his head dipped, hiding his eyes from the rest of the room, and so that he could not be daunted by the expressions that would most likely lurk on their faces or deeper in their eyes. Questions like; could he do this, was he sober, was he going to faint dead away? He did not know how to respond to the reactions of others, was too self-conscious within his own skin. His pride having already taken too many beatings in his lifetime.

No one in that room took a stand against him, and for a moment he realised that maybe, just maybe, he had done enough to earn a shred of respect.

"You'll help?" he said looking in turn to Grace and Horace, and finally to Hank. His expression shifty, never making complete eye contact. The mentioned all made noises in the affirmatives as Robert E ushered little Brian out of the examination room and up the stairs to a recovery room on the second floor.

"I'll go back to the store and bring us all over some supplies," Loren announced to the room, his discomfort obvious. He would gladly have donated anything, even items from his own personal supplies just to be out of the room in that moment. Turning on his heel, without even waiting for a response he set off rushing up the street to the Mercantile, with no intentions of returning to the clinic for a good long while. Medical procedures performed by Dr. Mike were bad enough, but they all must be crazy to think that they could fix that girl's wrist up right and he was not about to stand there and watch it happen.

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The buttons of her coat were easily opened, despite his nervous fingers. He captured each lapel, lifting the material away from her body. It was so sodden that water oozed out from the fabric in between his fingers. Taking a moment he came to the realisation that logistically he would have to move her to release her arms from the confines of the sleeves. He let go of the material and sliding his arms under her body he lifted her, bringing her face very close to his for just a moment as she swayed in his arms. His blanketing coat fell away as he lent her up against his chest, her lolling head falling with ease onto his right shoulder.

She felt just like a rag doll, almost lifeless against him. Nervous that she might not be too steady he lifted his supporting arms away from her very slowly, ready to catch her if she began to slide, but she remained still.

He gently eased her left and then her right arms out of her coat, her free arms slumping back down against his crouched thighs, his gaze drawn to watch the coat as it fell under her back in a heavy crumple.

This all felt so intimate. A little too intimate.

He took another slow breath as he slid the leather waistcoat off next, tossing it over to the side.

He could do this. He had to do this.

He began again with her shawl, his fingers fumbling with the ornate pin that had held it in place under her coat. Once unfastened the shawl began to unravel all by itself, as thoughts of bandages ran through his head. He leaned over her shoulder unwinding the woollen knit as more and more of her hair came tumbling loose. He could have wrung the shawl out with his hands and formed a lake, the amount of water it had absorbed.

He threw the shawl to his left in a tangle to join the waistcoat and then he slowly lowered her back to the ground, gently cradling her head, her coat acting as a barrier between her and the leaves beneath.

He cast his gaze over the thick blouse she wore, and the row of pearly buttons that stretched from her throat all the way to her waistband. He took another breath to steady his fingers. He could not help but think of the familiarity of the situation. He had been here before with Dr. Mike, and he could have laughed at his previous predicament, he had thought that fastening up the row of buttons had been a nerve-wracking task. He huffed out his breath, bit his lower lip and reached out.

The smooth round pearls slid out of the eyelets untroubled. He tried his utmost not to let his fingers linger against her longer than was absolutely necessary, for his own sanity more than anything.

The fire was gaining on itself now, burning just a little brighter, just a little warmer, the inside of the shelter flickering with the flames, but still the chill pervaded the air. He needed to hurry. Needed to get her clothes off her and over by the fire before there was no chance of getting them to dry. His own buckskins were sticking to his legs and the dampness was seeping into his skin, sending waves of cold bone deep.

The buttons over her curves were the hardest to undo, he had visions of her awakening with his hands hovering there, and the more he thought of that prospect the faster he tried to work and the more his fingers refused to respond to his brain and the slower he proceeded.

He was almost relieved to reach her waistband, but relief was overshadowed by the problem of how he opened up the riding bloomers she wore which would in turn release the bottom of her shirt. There were no buttons that he could see at the front. He gave them a gentle tug downwards, but nothing happened. He lifted her once more, guiding her gently against his chest. No buttons at the back either.

He, who never blushed, felt his skin grow hot as he gently, slid a finger into the top of the waistband, just between the shirt and the riding bloomers and began to draw his finger around her waist. He swallowed slowly, there had to be an entrance to these things somewhere! He could feel the soft movement of her stomach as she breathed in and out, reducing and relaxing the space around his finger.

He shuddered hard, continuing the path of his finger until he finally found the opening down her right side. A small row of buttons hidden under an extra flap of material. His relief was audible. Sliding each button free he was finally able to pull the bottom of the shirt free and ease it down and off her arms. He tossed the blue material over onto the pile.

So many layers, next she wore a plain shirt, with less buttons, protection against the cold. That came away easier, the buttons on that were not unlike the ones on the shirts he wore. He would not have been surprised to find that this shirt had indeed once belonged to Matthew and that Dr. Mike had begun to wear it when it had been outgrown.

It was what lay beneath that grabbed his attention, he had seen women's undergarments before, he had been a married man, but he had never seen the likes of what she wore beneath all these layers.

Her camisole was a mix of cotton and lace and something else, something that looked soft and shiny in the firelight. No buttons this time, just a thread of ribbon which held the front closed tight and knotted in a bow. Nothing like this was ever sold at Mr. Bray's store or to be found within the pages of his catalogues. He could not help but wonder if she wore garments like this under all her usual everyday clothes.

He had to shake himself to remember who he was looking at. This was his friend, his friend who needed him. His friend who minutes before had ended up in a frozen river because of his incompetence.

He felt the sting of shame, become a throb and his heart hurt in his chest.

He had almost lost her.

His attention was drawn back as she shifted before him, but just as quickly she settled again. The cold had begun to permeate through to her; wherever her consciousness lay at that moment. Goosebumps pervaded her exposed flesh and he realised that he was not moving either. Shocked back into action he lowered her back to the ground and covered her once more with the weight of his coat. Moving down her body he unlaced each of her boots, marvelling at just how small her feet felt in his hands, his fingers sliding up the inside of her riding bloomers, with his nervous eyes half closed, so that he could roll off her stockings.

Returning level with her waist he lifted her up a little, so that he could carefully remove her riding bloomers, mindful not to drag along the undergarments beneath too with his clumsy fingers as he pulled the soggy material and leather away.

He tugged his coat down completely over her once again, gently guiding her knees up a little to keep her bare feet under the cover.

He leaned over her face once more to check on her, she still looked like she was sleeping, her breathing was better though, stronger. He caressed a lock of hair back from her forehead, feeling minutely better about her condition.

Moving away he returned to the fire, and began stretching out her clothes, arranging them as close to the flames as was safe. He added a few more pieces of wood from the pile next to him, seeing the flames leap up and capture their new prey. The wind outside had picked up even more so and was creating a constant whistle and howl which sounded like a ringing in his ears.

Reaching for the bottom of the animal skin shirt he wore he lifted it up over his head crossing his arms, that joined the pile too, followed quickly by his shirt. Kicking off his boots he touched the top of his buckskins, and paused, his attention closing over her. He knew she was not watching, but just her presence made him self-conscious. Easing the material down his legs was harder than he expected, it kept sticking to his damp thighs with the moisture. He could only thank his lucky stars over his decision to buy the long john bottoms from Mr. Bray's store that he wore beneath his buckskins, if it had not been for them he could have had to remain in the sodden skins.

She stirred again, a faint whimper drifting over to him as he crossed the space between them, pausing to move his clothes a few inches closer to the fire. She was shivering uncontrollably again.

Settling down onto his knees beside her, shivering more than before himself, he lifted up his coat, which was still wetter than he would have liked. Chanting a silent mantra of: she needs this, she needs this, she needs this, he too slid under the coat, lifting one leg over her, bringing his knees down to rest either side of her hips.

Breathing so shaky, he gently lowered his weight onto his knees and elbows, bringing him even closer to her. She whimpered again and he slammed eyes shut, biting his lip once more, half expecting her to scream, or to slap him or something, but no response came.

When she remained still he risked opening his eyes. She was so close and so cold and so small. He was used to her in her many layered dresses and skirts, and to have her here in only her undergarments he was struck by just how much smaller she was than him. He did not even have to stretch to keep his knees either side of her hips.

The inside of his arm brushed against her shoulder as she moved again and he almost gasped in shock at the icy chill which still clung to her skin. Forgetting completely about his worries, he repositioned his weight so that he rested more on his knees and lower legs as his hands reached out and came down onto her shoulders.

His fingers began to lightly rub her skin in swirling and massaging caresses, moving down her arms, warming. His rougher fingers gently teasing the sensitive skin on the inside of her arms, the delicate spots at the crease of her elbow and her wrists, not realising that she had drifted a lot closer to consciousness.

Her eyes opened to slits, confused by her position and then drifted closed again as he brought her fingers up to his mouth blowing gently against her palms and fingertips, rubbing her hands briskly between his much larger ones.

He kept moving, lowering her hands back, and rubbing her legs by her knees, and then moving back up to her arms again.

Her mind was in a fog of dizzy confusion as she tried to make sense of her last conscious memory; there had been ice and coldness, and the situation she now found herself in. Her concentration was slipping as she became more and more aware of her surroundings, more and more aware of the soft touches of another person.

His hands reached her stomach and began to gently rub her belly, his eyes closed tightly at the feel of the fine materials beneath his fingertips. He forced himself to think of safe things, like talking with the children, walking the hills with Wolf, visiting his brother Cloud Dancing, anything to keep his mind from what he was actually doing.

She suddenly squirmed against him, her movement causing the material of her camisole to rise up and by pure chance his little finger slid into the gap and along the softest skin of her stomach, dipping into her belly button, before he could pull back his hand. He could not believe just how soft her skin was, and he had to bite back a smile as he had felt her stomach shrink back underneath him. She was ticklish!

She was squirming a little more now, she did not react to his accidental touch like he expected, but when he opened his eyes and focused on her face he could see her eyelids were fluttering.

Crawling forward a little, re-supporting his weight on his elbows, he drew closer to her face. "Dr. Mike?" he whispered, his voice sounding loud and harsh in the confined space.

"Sully…?" He just caught her faint whisper. "Cold…" was all she could get out as her face contorted as if she was about to cry.

He leaned even closer to her, his nose brushing the tip of hers and he was horrified by just how cold it was. He began to rub is nose against hers, Eskimo style, trying to create some warmth between their skin from the primitive friction.

She nuzzled closer seeking his warmth, tilting her head back a little and he felt the soft brush of her lips, like ice, against his cheek. Without really thinking he repositioned himself, took a shuddery breath and opened his mouth, lowering it to millimetres from her slightly parted lips, and with eyes closed he gently began to breeze his warm breath over her lips.

Feeling this intenser heat her eyes drifted open as she reached a more definite consciousness. She could not believe what was happening, she was so dizzily aware of just how intimate his actions were, just how close he was. His face so close he was a blur, when she tried hard to focus she could just make out that his eyes were closed, and the overwhelming nearness of his lips. She could feel the nearness of his bare chest, his legs over hers. She was floating on a haze, and his warmth felt like it was flowing into her.

The sheer difference in temperature between his breath and the chilly air had started to cause condensation to dew up on her lips, she unconsciously ran her tongue over her lower lip to remove it, accidentally catching his upper lip in the process.

Suddenly completely aware of what she had just done, she watched in amazement as a shudder ran through him, his eyes flew open and mesmerised she saw the pupils flare wide and the colour deepen.

Both froze. Staring deep into each other. Neither sure of what to do.

Sully, needing to take charge, to distract them both from the thoughts and feelings that raced through his body, began to gently caress her face. Without moving his lips away from hers he began to whisper soothingly to her that she needed not to panic, it was all right now, that she just needed to rest and to relax.

Relax! Both their minds raced.

What was happening between them?

One thought came crashing through both their minds: the trouble that had followed their first kiss.

He could remember just how near and then how soft her lips had been, but he still did not know why he had let his instincts overwhelm him. He would never be able to forget that look in her eyes as he had pulled away, surprise and so much more written in the depths. He had tried to cover the confusion that instantaneously flooded through him, by taking her hand to escort her to her party, but on the short walk panic and doubt had begun to set in, and had only been intensified by the way her tiny fingers caressed his.

She had been so shy with him throughout the party, which had been new, and he had come to the worrying realisation that his actions had placed expectations in her. Expectations he was unsure he could fulfil. He even caught her, several times, watching him as he talked with the children, she would dart her gaze away, but not before he caught her look of tingly excitement and hope.

It had frightened him right back into his shell. What had he been thinking turning up in that fancy suit, present in hand, it was no wonder that she had been led to think the thoughts she had.

That kiss on her birthday, it had been the perfect first kiss. A magical moment, but it had almost broken her heart that it had taken him so long to be honest with her after. All she had wanted was a slight acknowledgment that things between them had changed. They had changed; young people in Boston always followed kisses like that with formal announcements, even if was as simple a statement as courting.

That it took something as simple as Brian asking Sully to be in the family portrait to bring forth his confession had stung her a little. Her heart had been pounding in her ears throughout their entire conversation by the meadow. She had been twisting her hands, so uncertain of what he might say.

To hear the words "Especially you," had made her heart leap. Things were finally going to change. It gave her the courage to confess to him too, "it was the nicest gift that I got." The words had been out of her mouth before she had thought and she had dipped her eyes at his non-committal response. Feeling her insides crumble.

He could not believe that someone as unthreatening as Daniel Watkins, an ageing photographer, had brewed such a jealously within him. It was the ease and charm with which the other man had spoken to Dr. Mike that had forced him to have the conversation he had dreaded.

In this moment, having just almost lost her for real into the bottomless depths of the frozen flood, he could not believe just how foolish he had been, to be so deeply upset and afraid of feelings so pleasant.

Almost defeated she had tried to cover herself, by echoing his 'not ready' nicety with a white lie of "neither am I." But she had felt her heart hurt as she had said the words and had been unable to hold back continuing on almost mindless with "I care about you too…very much." She had never had to work as hard to steady her breathing, knowing that she would not be able to hide her disappointment for much longer. Feeling the overwhelming need to flee from sight and let free the pain-filled tears that stung the corners of her eyes.

He had tried to keep their friendship the same after that, still coming to dinner, and she too had tried to keep it light, joking over Brian's head that people in Coney Island wore bathing suits because it was colder there. He had even made the huge decision to stand with the family, embracing her on the official town photograph. But still that event, that conversation hung in the air between them. He began to worry that this new intense and intimate situation was going to cause the same problems between them.

Her eyes had closed again now; the beautiful, heavy eyelashes lay against the curving cheekbones. He suddenly realised that she had not moved for a few minutes. He nudged her again with his nose. She stirred a little, and a moan rumbled out of her throat.

"Dr. Mike?" he asked questioningly, sensing that something was not quite right. A deep crimson flush had appeared across her cheeks, and she had begun to mumble incoherently in response to his voice. "Dr. Mike?" he tried again. He reached his hand up and placed the back of it against her forehead. She squirmed against the cooler flesh. Something was definitely wrong now. Her temperature was sky high, her eyes were drooping and she was getting weaker by the minute, her limbs slumping beneath him as if she could not hold herself up any longer.

"Sully…?" he almost missed her weak voice. " I don't feel right…"


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first eight chapters!! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Nine._

Their journey into town was slow and the ground beneath them full of hidden perils. They skidded and slid around on the icy patches of snow, the youngest ones stumbling and dragged down by their coats, which only slowed their progress more.

Greta's small weight in Matthew's arms was light enough, but meant that oftentimes he could not see his feet, which was becoming more and more of a problem. He was constantly overshadowed by the fear that he would tumble, felt it hanging over him in a lightening cloud, watching his every move and just waiting for him to fall sprawling to the ground. Peering down at the precious bundle he carried in his arms, trying desperately to protect, he lowered his head a little checking Greta's breathing, her lips remained blue, but she was hungrily fighting for rasping slow breaths.

"Hjälp!" came the cry for help from Anna, as she began to slip, knocking Sofia to the ground with her as she reached out for her sister to steady herself. A wounded cry of frustration growled from Sofia as she forced her sister away with a huff. She was tired and cold and she just wanted to be back in her warm bed all wrapped up tightly in the blankets.

"Girls!" Cried Ingrid her shout hoarse with frustration, "We need to help each other. This is too dangerous to fight. Greta needs our help!"

The girls clambered to their feet, hands digging through the soft upper layers of the ground cover before they could find the leverage to stand. They kept their heads dipped each trying to avoid any more feelings of anger towards the other and to hide their guilty looks of contrition, for Ingrid was right; both loved their youngest sister very much and both caught the desperation in Ingrid's voice and finally understood the importance of taking this frantic journey.

Whilst Ingrid had been resolving this squabble Matthew and the others had continued towards town and Ingrid now had to rush the girls as quickly as was possible after them. Looking into the distance she realised with a creeping feeling of discomfort that she was no longer able to see Matthew ahead. The storm was so heavy, the flakes creating a curtained haze that seemed to begin only metres away from them, and beyond that there was nothing.

Panic began to bubble even hotter in her stomach, the chill of the snow nothing in comparison to her chills of fear. She could not see Matthew. Could not see much of anything.

"Matthew!" She shouted. Hearing the wind snatch the words as they left her mouth. She came to a stop.

Anna and Sofia halted beside her, Anna bumping into her left elbow. "Ingrid?" She shouted looking up at her sister, but Ingrid's expression was partially camouflaged by her scarf. Anna continued, tugged on her sleeve, but Ingrid kept scanning the expanse before them. Afraid to look down at her sister and admit that there could be a very big problem.

She had no idea where she was. No clue as to which direction town was in.

"Ingrid?" Anna tried again to gain her attention.

Ingrid reached out her arms and brought her hands down around each of the girl's shoulders. Just as a violent blast of wind shook the trio, clearing the snow from their vision for mere moments.

Squinting she finally was able to make out a darker blur shadowed by two smaller ones just at the periphery of her vision.

"There!" Ingrid shouted, clasping hold of their hands and half pulling them through the snow in the direction of the shadows.

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There was a worrying silence that cloaked the clinic. Colleen now, sedated for her pain with a little laudanum, was drowsily watching as Jake and Hank rummaged through the supplies closet for bandages, scissors, a bowl to mix the plaster in. They had so far also managed to rustle up a bag of plaster mix. Over by the examination bed Grace spoke to her in comforting whispers, whilst Horace trawled through his fourth of Dr. Mike's medical books.

"I'm ready," Jake announced, not sounding as confident as he had hoped for. "Grace," he asked, finally meeting her gaze. "I'm gonna need you to hold her steady."

A curt nod was all Grace could summon as she leaned over the pillow by Colleen's head and embraced the young girl's shoulders. Pressing her cheek to the soft hair she began to hum softly, in an attempt to keep Colleen calm, as her fingers began flexing to the rhythm, and she braced herself, knowing that Colleen was going to feel pain even with the laudanum.

Jake looked up at the rest of the room, before bringing his attention back down to Colleen. "Alright," he said his voice level. Colleen closed her eyes tight.

Then with his lip between his teeth he gently straightened out Colleen's wrist. Hearing a soft 'pop' as the bone moved, feeling the tension in the muscles shift.

A faint whimper came from Colleen as her upper body twisted against Grace's, but then she fell back heavily against her and was still, a single tear slipping from under her closed eyelids and drifting down her cheek.

Grace carefully lowered her back to the bed, pausing to caress her palm against Colleen's forehead and cheek, caressing away the salty streak, as Jake began to bind her wrist with bandage that Hank reeled out to him.

All eyes turned now to Horace. Grace, beginning to fret at the time this research was taking, had reached up habitually to pull and twist her cross on its cord.

Across the room Horace, seemingly undisturbed by all that was taking place behind him, took another calm sigh.

"Come on!" Hank's voice out of the silence made all but Colleen jump. Colleen's gaze was sleepily, slowly drawn in the same direction as the others. The painkiller delaying her reaction time by minutes. Horace, despite lifting a good inch off Dr. Mike's chair, was the only one who did not respond, he was too wrapped up in his reading. Painstakingly drawing his finger as a pointer down the page.

"Horace! We're ready, what now?" Hank demanded, crossing to lean over Horace's shoulder threateningly, pretending that he too could read what was written before him.

Turning around, and as if addressing a lecture theatre full of medical students, Horace slowly, as if to prove he could not be provoked by the likes of Hank, began to read off

the list of ingredients and percentages needed to make the perfect Plaster of Paris cast.

0000000000

A violent crash outside her door woke Dorothy from her slumber. Her copy of Dickens fell to the floor with a crack as she sat bolt upright on her bed.

She must have dozed off, she thought rubbing her eyes, she had only meant to settle there a while and read the next chapter. Just to give herself a little break after the crazy rush on supplies at the store. Had only wanted some time to herself before starting on some supper for Loren.

Looking to the clock she saw that three whole hours had indeed past. There had been a noise from the store; she stood, her blanket falling back onto the ground as she crossed the room to the doorway.

Peering out she saw Loren, grumbling to himself, amid a chaos of sacks and blankets and a haze of flour dust.

"Loren!"

He jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Oh Dorothy! I was just getting some supplies for the clinic and…"

"What happened?" Dorothy exclaimed cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Awwwww, my hand just slipped, I'd put too much in the basket." He grumbled, wishing she hadn't seen his incompetence once again. It seemed he never could impress her.

"Loren! What happened at the clinic!" Dorothy's exasperation brought the words forth with a rush.

"Oh that, Robert E and Grace came back with the children from Sully's homestead and there'd been some sort of bother. But that's what you get from leaving children to themselves is what I say." He grumbled as he drew himself upright, leaning heavily on his knees, before clutching his back a little as he gained his breath. The fervour at the clinic that day had taken its toll on him too. Had been worth it for the money though, he though back to the much larger than usual piles in his cashbox, certainly been worth it for the money.

"Brian, Colleen, Matthew?" Dorothy's anxious voice dragged him from his money thoughts. "What happened are they alright? Isn't Dr. Mike back?"

"No, she's not." Loren said shaking his head. "And Brian's fine, its Colleen hurt herself, but Jake and Hank are taking care of her over at the clinic." Loren began dusting off his trousers and turned to re-pack the basket he had dislodged.

"Jake and Hank!!" Dorothy yelped. Causing him to start. "Loren Bray, you left an injured child in the care of those two… those two…?" She couldn't think of an appropriate, ladylike word to use.

He shrank down a little, knowing that she saw right through to his cowardice. "Yeah, well Grace and Horace were there too. I said I'd come back, you know get some supplies." He paused finally noting Dorothy's look of disbelief.

"Alright, we'll go back now. Sure they could do with some of these things right about now anyhow."

Dorothy turned to rush back to her room to collect her scarf and coat, but half way across the floor she paused as a niggling thought came to the fore.

"Loren?" She asked, pausing to look over at him in mid-flap. "Matthew, you didn't mention Matthew."

"That's because he wasn't there!" Loren responded without really thinking. "He wasn't there…" he repeated, his words dawning on him.

"Wasn't there?" Dorothy's eyes grew even wider. "Then where is he?"

0000000000

"Dr. Mike?" he had just caught her faint words. "What do you mean 'not right'?" Panic tinged his voice, it had come back to medicine again and he did not know what to do.

"Cold…" came her faint response.

"Cold?" he asked incredulously feeling the burn of her skin under his fingers. He needed to do something to bring her temperature down.

Looking around him frantically his eyes came to rest upon their pile of clothes by the fire. Sliding out from under the coat, making sure she was covered, and ignoring the biting chill of the air against his bare skin and the burning cold of the stone beneath his feet, he crossed to the fire. Tugging on his boots and shirt he gathered up her shawl. Just as he had hoped it was still cool and damp. Moving back over to her he eased her head up, drawing her hair back from her neck and shoulders before manoeuvring the shawl as a cool cushion beneath her.

She murmured gently, confused unintelligible words. He caressed her forehead again, recognising a fever, knowing that now he would have to work to bring her temperature down and not up.

Picking up one of her stockings he went to the entrance to the alcove, shaking his head in disbelief at the awe-inspiring weather beyond. Feeling the wind scratch at his still damp hair and blow a pelting of flakes that felt like they clogged his nose and mouth, made breathing a necessary chore.

Bending against the force of the blasts he began to scoop up snow, using his palms to shovel as much as he could into her stocking. Almost a minute passed before he had to turn his head to draw a real breath. That would have to be enough for now. He could always come back.

Hurrying back he settled beside her and then gently pressed the stocking against her forehead, just for a moment, but it was still shock enough as her gasp reverberated around the cave. Her eyelids flickered as she tried to squirm away from his touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "It's to help you."

He gently moved the material over her forehead again receiving another whimpered protest. He moved the material on down over her neck. The skin of her arms was raised in goosebumps and her small frame was still trembling, yet her cheeks were hot like lava and his fingers brushed over her pulse which raced in her neck, her body telling her two things at once as wires crossed and miss-fired in her brain.

His own body was shivering again underneath the soggy weight of his shirt. Kicking off his boots and shrugging off the damp material that clung to his chest he moved back underneath the coat. Returning to his position on his knees over her.

Gently, for what seemed like hours, he continued to run his makeshift cold compress over the bare skin of her shoulders, neck and face, as beneath him, either soothed or simply exhausted, she seemed to drift off to sleep.

With his own eyes lolling he kept shaking his head to keep himself aware. Even running the compress over the back of his own neck once or twice, using the extreme cold to shock him alert.

The small amount of heat generated by the fire and their nearness was by now causing the snow to melt a little, creating a thin film of moisture across her skin, which was in turn acting to cool the skin in combination with the air.

If only he had some of Cloud Dancing's fever tea. He knew that any attempted search in conditions like these would be a loosing battle; he would never be able to find the plants and their roots that were needed for the brew.

If only Dr. Mike had brought her medical bag with her. If only he had not joined in the conspiracy to make sure that she left it behind.

Snowbird and Cloud Dancing had invited them for a supper at the reservation. Told Sully under no uncertain terms that Dr. Mike was to be there as their guest. Had told Sully that she must come just to dinner, not to provide medicine to their people, just for one night. They wanted her there as their friend, as Sully's friend. He had caught the glance that passed between his friends at their suggestion and recognised that Snowbird still harboured dreams about the new feelings she had observed to be developing between Dr. Mike and himself. His friends never said anything out loud and upfront about it, but he knew that they were both covertly attempting to influence him in these matters, coaxing him into situations where he would have to make some definite decisions that he was not sure he was ready to make just yet.

Sully felt the pang of hindsight as he remembered how he had laughed whole-heartedly at Snowbird's request, knowing that Dr. Mike always kept her medical bag near at hand. He had laughed also to hide the flood of truth he had felt when he saw their shared look at the mention of Dr. Mike's name.

He had wanted to honour his friends' request, knew that at times they could be a little offended at Dr. Mike's insistence that she be their healer. Dr. Mike and Cloud Dancing had come to the understanding a long time ago now that both their medicine's could be beneficial, a lot of time in combination, but with the sicknesses of the white man often causing contagion between the Indians it seems Dr. Mike's medicine was the most useful in more and more cases, which was just an uncomfortably sad truth of their times.

He had finally agreed to the idea, knowing that it would be a nice break for Dr. Mike, to just be herself for an evening and had been even more reassured by Snowbird's comment that should any minor emergency prevail that 'Cloud Dancing would be Medicine Man!' She had said it in English, with such a smile of pride for her loved one that Sully had given in and laughed along with her.

Now he could not believe he had done it. Could not believe he had hidden her medical bag in the space behind the door in the clinic. When she had begun to search for it he had distracted her, convinced her that they needed to set off there and then, that she wouldn't need the bag. Could leave it behind, just for one night. Then he had even convinced her that instead of a horse ride to the reservation that a walk would be wonderful, followed by an evening's stroll home in the moonlight and that it would be beneficial for them to walk off the meal they would no doubt receive as guests of honour.

And so his anticipatory feelings of the prospect of being alone with her, and the idea of doing something nice for her, had been so distracting that he had not even thought to look upwards and around him to the intelligence of nature to check the status of the weather.

When he thought of how useful her medicine would have been right now. How their horses could have gotten them at least to the reservation before the worst of the storm had set in, he felt a cry of anger and frustration rise up in his chest.

These thoughts hurt his head, he was so tired, but he did not deserve to think about himself. He had not the right, the luxury, to dream and consider 'what if's' right now. All he had to do was to concentrate on the here and now. On getting her better.

She had not stirred for a while, he noticed. He moved in close, her breathing was slow, deeper than before and much more even. To the touch her forehead was much cooler too.

With a quiet sigh, he lifted his right leg over her body to meet his left. He had been struggling to keep himself supported on his knees and elbows for some time now, and had grown worried he might crush her with his weight if his limbs accidentally gave way beneath him.

Settling in at her side he leant his head against her breast, just to make sure that her heartbeat had slowed. He closed his eyes to listen, hearing the gentle thumps beating in a much calmer rhythm, and with a sigh of relief he gave in to the exhaustion …


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

Author's note! I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first nine chapters!! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Ten._

The door to the Mercantile was heavy and swollen with the weather. Took both Dorothy and Loren's combined efforts to drag it open enough for them to leave. Instantly the store was filled with marauding snowflakes that were dragged inside by the suctioning updraft.

Gathering up all the supplies the pair stepped out into the terrible weather. Both feeling the unbelievable force of the wind as it swayed them backwards with only the slightest effort on its part. Loren yanked the door closed behind him, struggling with the tiny lock and key, his hands fumbling within his woollen gloves.

"Just leave it Loren!" Dorothy cried. Desperate to be inside the clinic already.

"I gots ta lock it Dorothy!" came the agitated response carried by the wind as Loren continued to struggle.

He was lucky not to have seen the look that he received from Dorothy; as she made a mental note to have a serious discussion with him about his greed, and she would, one of these days. Loren was an old man and set in his ways and part of her knew it was simply too late to change him now, but when his greed put others at risk like this it became something she really could not help but mention.

"Done!" cried Loren in triumph, but Dorothy bestowed no congratulations, as she turned against the wind and began striding in the direction of Dr. Mike's clinic. Loren could only follow on her heels, the basket of supplies on his arm swung too and fro with each staggered step.

They could barely see the other side of the street, Loren's hat was already blotted completely white. Lights could be seen, just barely, over at the Saloon, and at the clinic as they finally moved closer to their destination.

Dorothy froze suddenly, Loren looking to her bemused as he, still in motion, passed her.

"What's wrong?" He cried. Following her gaze into the in-comprehendible distance.

"There!" She shouted, "There is someone out there!"

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The flickering of the flames was the first thing that Michaela became aware of. She could see the firelight rippling through her closed lids as if she had looked directly at the sun a little too long.

Arching her neck she tried to make the fabric lump beneath her head more comfortable. She just wanted five more minutes to her slumbering dreams; there was nothing urgent, nothing pressing, that she could remember that would ultimately force her to get out of her bed early today.

She shifted a little. It was funny that her head hurt, a dull throbbing echoed in her ears. As she became more aware she felt the ache of cold accumulating through her bones, which seemed to be seeping into her from beneath.

Undulating her shoulders she recognised that there was a warm, weight against her chest and that what lay beneath her did not yield any as she moved.

This was not her bed in her little homestead.

Her eyes felt heavy like her head, she tried to open them, but she could not keep them from lolling closed before she could focus her gaze upon anything. The light was ill defined and hurt her eyes.

This was not the homestead. Where was she?

It was cold. She felt the icy fingers of it tickling her skin and raising goosebumps across the flesh. She did not seem to be wearing much of her clothing; she could not be to feel this cold.

In her last few months of living in Colorado Springs, she had finally become accustomed to the contrasting climate; the heady sweltering heat and then the sudden freezing icy cold spells. It had taken a long time to adjust, but this was different, this cold, it chilled her lungs as she breathed.

When she tried to get her sluggish brain to muse about where she was, how she had gotten there, all she saw in her minds eye was a world of swirling glacial white, which fought with her and took her breath away.

Her forehead furrowed. These thoughts were intensifying the slow thump, thump, thump of resounding pain in her mind.

So instead she tried to focus on what she could distinguish. She could hear her own breathing, tinged with a soft wheeze from the cold. She could also hear the breathing of someone else; theirs tinged with the rasp of a gentle snore. Someone was there with her and instead of inducing worry it felt like a comfort.

She could hear more beyond that, sounded like the roar of the wind, smashing and thrashing in gusts and blasts.

She was blanketed with something too, a heavy material, which felt damp and sticky against her legs. She wriggled her toes, feeling the stinging breeze of cold air as the material shifted, exposing her feet. They were bare and as she drowsily pulled her legs protectively higher up under the blanket she felt her thigh brush against the other person.

She was thirsty, her mouth dry. Her tongue danced over her lips as a memory flickered. Hot warm lips millimetres from her own. Heated breath warming and distracting.

She wrinkled her nose, feeling how taut and sensitive the skin was, as she tried to concentrate, but the memory flitted away so quickly she had to let it fly.

She sighed, twisting her back.

The weight on her chest rose and fell with the motion.

The ache across her shoulder blades wrenched her upper body, and could not have justifiably developed because of lying upon what appeared to be the ground beneath her. Her body ached as if she had walked a hundred miles against the force of a prevailing wind.

Another remembrance came; the feel of hands against her skin, rubbing and warming, the nearness of another's body, a male body, hovering over hers, noses bumping. She did not understand, were these fragments of her dreams?

She opened her eyes, very slowly, taking her time to allow her brain to comfortably adjust. Above her the glow of flames flickered across what appeared to be a stone roof. Dark, gloomy and overhanging low. She blinked slowly, as her tired eyes fought to enclose her in darkness again.

She took a long breath, bringing her left hand up to rub across her eyes like Brian did just before bedtime. Her hand lingering over her face, feeling how sensitive the skin was.

The weight upon her chest chose that as the perfect moment to stir against her. Nuzzling affectionately against her breast.

Her breath caught, as a heavy arm glided over her stomach. A large hand tenderly moving, encircling her waist.

With her hand still shading her face she slid her fingers open just a little as with trepidation she peeped between them, gaze drifting downwards.

She let go of her held breath in relief when she saw Sully's soft hair peeping out of the top of a coat that was blanketing them both. The top of his head so close that her chin could have comfortably rested against his crown. His face lay against the clean white of her camisole. Her mouth formed an 'O' of surprise. Where were her clothes?

She lifted her hand away from her face with a confounded sigh, looking above her again for a moment to attempt to gather her thoughts. Wishing she could just think, just curl up by herself for a moment to consider, but all her tired mind could focus on was the touch of his protective hand as it moved in minute circles against her under cover of the coat.

She could not hold back a whimper of confusion as she tried to process the events that had brought them to this place.

There had been a storm, a snowstorm, they had not been able to get to the reservation, and they had been too far from town to go back. There had been a river, and icy cold water.

Her eyes grew wide as horrors crashed through her at the sudden series of bewildering flashbacks that flooded forth. She saw Sully's deep blue eyes intensely locked with hers across a hazy distance. Felt the freedom of the leap of faith she had taken. And then the biting pain of ice and water and chaos and then just nothing.

She looked back down at Sully, feeling the acute pain of her memories echo away at the sight of him. Her own fingers reached waveringly out, sliding the coat away from his face, her fingers coming down to weakly caress his forehead, gratitude beginning to dawn, only mildly comprehending the enormity of what Sully must have been through.

She was here, she was alive. She felt her heart swell for him, as her fingers gently slid into his hair, the storm had created soft curls that rippled beneath her fingers. He looked simply exhausted.

"Sully?" her voice was almost unrecognisable, dry and crackled and seemed to echo loudly.

He stirred a little, a very low grumble of protest rolling from deep in his chest, but he did not awaken.

Sighing she felt discomfort set in. She could not be sure how long she had lain here, but she knew one thing, that her bladder ached for relief and the heavy weight of his arm was pressing down in a way that was causing the need to become much more urgent!

Something had to be done; the pressure was starting to overtake her thoughts in their ranking order of lost, cold, worried, exhausted. She knew one thing though, however important, she was going nowhere with Sully lying against her like that.

She tried his name again, scratching her nails a little against his scalp. He nuzzled into her again and she watched as the corners of his mouth drew up in pleasure and she snatched her hand back instantly. What was she doing?

"Sully!" She said, in a much louder tone, her hand this time shaking his shoulder, but even then distracted by the bare skin she found there.

His eyelids flickered open, blinking harshly at the light as he, suddenly remembering that he had to be aware of something important, raised his head just enough to look up to her face.

She watched as his eyes grew wider and bluer before her, relief plain in his expression "Michaela," he breathed, his mind clearly still foggy.

He forced himself up, his left elbow, a little numb from the ground shaking a little under the weight as he removed his right arm from around her, reaching his hand out to caress over her forehead. She closed her eyes momentarily as she felt his touch, the echo of her full name resounding in the air.

"Sully," she tried her tired voice once more. "I…"

Even in this moment of great desperation she still found that she could not say what she needed.

Sully, having become more alert looked down at his position and immediately assuming that he had embarrassed her with his proximity, almost leapt away to create a distance between their bodies.

Both felt the rush of shockingly cold air chill their skin as her mind searched desperately for the words to explain her predicament and his mind became clogged with excuses for why he had removed her clothing and found he really could not explain how he had come to spend the night sleeping against her… against her… It was no wonder she was upset and could not look at him. What must she have been thinking!

Her faint voice drew his attention back, "Sully," Her cheeks glowed and he braced himself for her fury. "I need…" She shifted her gaze away towards the fire. "to go!"

He barely caught the words as they flowed out of her in a whisper.

"To go?" He looked at her, a frown pulling his forehead tight.

Her eyes flickered back to his, beseechingly, begging him to understand so that she did not have to spell it out for him.

"Oh!" Sully dipped his head feeling completely foolish. Of course that had been what she meant. Why would she have wanted to leave at a moment like this?

Clothes, she would need clothes if they were going to venture outside. He sat up, the coat falling away, glad of a distraction from the awkwardness that was shivering in the air around them. Michaela jumped a little at her exposure, curling herself in a ball, using her hair as camouflage, as she averted her eyes demurely from the sight of his bare chest and underwear.

He had to bite back the smile, when all he wanted to do was to laugh and relieve the painful tension that was increasing between them, but he got the sense that she might not find their awkward predicament quiet as amusing.

He dragged on his own boots, and crossing to the fire he picked up her boots. They were still really wet, but there was nothing he could do. He returned to her and calmly loosened the laces and reached out for her left foot sliding the boot into place.

"Sully!" she cried, her voice louder than she had expected it to sound; she snatched her foot back, feeling even more dizzy and weak. " I can do it!" she protested, but she was not entirely sure that she could.

"I had too… I thought it would be for the best…" He tried to explain, gesturing to her removed clothes, but she still refused to look at him directly. "You,"

She cut him off pausing in her motions of tying her lace, "I fell in the river…" She whispered, awe tingeing her voice. She shook her head slowly. It was all too much for her to think about right now. The stress on her bladder was increasing by the minute, forcing all other thoughts out of her brain. She managed the second boot without a problem.

Sully knowing when to back away had collected his shirt and was dragging the wet material over his head, when he heard the muffled noise escape her. She must have gotten light-headed whilst reaching behind her for her coat and he leapt over to catch her just before her shoulder slammed into the rough ground.

Limp in his arms she watched him dazedly as he eased her into her coat, protesting the furthest thing from her mind. With the buttons of her coat fastened as best he could, he reached for the end of her hair, and gathering it together in his hands, he wrapped it around her neck in the style of a scarf.

"There," he whispered, with a hopeful, sweet smile seeming to beg forgiveness. A smile which her eyes returned.

Then he slipped his hands underneath her body, not even attempting to try and let her walk, he heaved a deep sigh and then standing with her carried her towards the entrance to the cave.

Beneath heavy eyelids, she studied his face, the extreme seriousness of his tight expression. Worry so plainly cloaking the usual friendly countenance.

She turned her face against his chest as they broached the storm, he could take no such shelter, the snowflakes, pounding against him like frozen spikes of pain.

He carried her over to a series of trees that sprouted from the rise and then he slowly lowered her feet to the ground, she taking back a little control braced herself against a branch.

Both wavered there under the pounding storm for an eternal seeming moment, until, jumping a little he suddenly realised what she was waiting for. Immediately he turned his head away affording her some privacy, staring into the vast nothing, which spread out before him.

It was an awkward manoeuvre, especially as her fingers trembled with the cold and her nerves as she fumbled under the coat, unable to see what she was doing, but somehow she managed it. Wriggling to re-straightened out her bloomers before she cried out his name to let him know when she was finished.

Without another word he carried her back the short distance to the cave. Carefully placing her back on the ground. Their short trip had left her completely exhausted and her eyes drifted closed once more as he hovered above her studying her face.

"Dr. Mike? I think that we should get you out of that coat to keep you dry."

She hummed her response, which was indistinguishable to him, neither a yes, or a no, but she seemed to be coming around again at the increase in temperature.

"Dr. Mike! Your coat?" He asked again. She nodded at him, this time properly confirming her decision, her eyes opening once again.

So he went with her choice, so thankful to pass the decision-making responsibility back over to her; and so he opened her coat spreading it out on the floor beneath her once more. Checking that she was once more as comfortable as she could possibly be in this situation, he made to stand beside her.

"I'll be back." He said as he began to turn away from her.

"Sully?" She asked confused.

He turned back, a cheeky smile flickering across his face. "I…" he sighed, an embarrassed smile appearing, "I have 'to go' too!" He admitted, mimicking her words, shrugging his eyebrows a little. "S'only natural!" he continued trying to lighten the mood with a little teasing.

She dipped her head, wishing she had not asked. The awkwardness was back ten-fold.

She heard his footsteps cross the cave and then she was alone. She brought her hands up over her face as she squealed out her embarrassment, finally able to see the funny side of all this! She had to laugh, if not she might cry.

She saw Sully's expression again as he had tried to explain why she had awoken without her clothing. Lifting the blanketing coat she peered down at herself examining the camisole she wore. Her cheeks rushed a startling pink; she was wearing her most expensive piece, a vestige of her life in Boston. The one time that she had warn it since arriving in Colorado Springs. The one time that she had not had the time to do any proper laundry. What must Sully have thought as he removed all her wet layers of clothing to uncover this! She groaned aloud, pulling the blanket over her face in her shame.

She did not uncover herself when she heard him return. She lay there in her created darkness with her eyes open, listening to him moving closer to her.

"Dr. Mike?" his voice betrayed his nervousness. She peeled back one corner of his coat to reveal one eye, squinting in the firelight.

He held is hand out to her. "Give me your hand." He instructed. So she did, feeling him deposit a small amount of snow onto her palm. She gasped, raising herself up a little, her eyes studying him for an explanation.

"Drink," he encouraged, "you had a fever. You must be thirsty."

She was, in her desperation for other bodily needs to be met, her thirst had been over looked. Lifting her hand she slid fingers into the melting snow, scooping a little up and placing it onto her tongue. Her eyes growing wide at the chill, but her mouth was glad of the liquid. Her thirst remembered she hungrily continued until there was almost no more left. Her eyes rising to his, to find him watching her with un-deniable interest.

Innocently, keeping her eyes locked with his, she scooped up the last of the snow, dragging her fingers over her tongue.

He could not look at her anymore. The temptation and the unbelievable thoughts that raced forth at her actions were too painful to withstand. He turned his face away, unable to bare the torture.

She froze. What had she done?

Then she began to realise how she must look, half dressed, dragging her fingers in and out of her mouth in hungry abandon.

The sudden acknowledgement that she possibly recognised the intention that had lain behind Sully's look slammed into her. She had seen that same dangerous expression aimed at her before, from men like Hank and Jake.

How could she have not seen that she was unwittingly pushing the boundaries that lay between them? A thought flickered in her mind; she wanted to know, wanted to know if the stirrings of interest she saw there in Sully's eyes were of the same kind. Her mind screamed that she should not, that she was a lady, but something other, something long buried, craved the confirmation.

She waited, staring at his back, waiting for the return of his gaze. Wanting to see.

He forced himself to stare at the fire, as the stirring images he had just witness danced hypnotically before him. He knew he should be able to restrain such thoughts, but in their current vulnerable state he found he could not. He knew that both their nerves were frayed, that the intensity of close quarters made everything seem so much more. If she only knew how his earlier actions had let her down.

She had her answer. He could not even bring himself to look at her. She was foolish and forward and he was sparing her the embarrassment.

Feeling the sting of shameful tears prickle, she could not hold them back, the warm moisture escaping down her cheeks. Turning her face away from the solid wall of silence he had created, she curled back on herself.

Hearing her movement and a badly concealed sob of pain he was at her side in moments, whispering, "I'm sorry. I'm just so glad that you are all right. I'm so sorry about all that has happened. Its my fault, it's all my fault!"

He thought her upset was because of his actions, because she suspected his involvement in their misfortunes.

He would never guess that she cried out of confusion. Cried out of shame. Cried because she though she was loosing her most secretly held hope.


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first ten chapters!! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Eleven._

Over at the Saloon the tiny blonde peered out of the glass bottle thick windowpane. Squinting through the obscurity of the ripples in the glass and the haze in the snowy air towards the dim light flickering shadows behind the Clinic windows. Unfurling the loose threads coming away at the corner of her shawl absentmindedly as she thought. Myra was worried about little Colleen; the sweet girl was always as respectful towards her as her Ma Dr. Mike was, and she was ever so smart.

Scenarios of the young girls injury and the possibilities of what the useless gathering of helpers could do to make that worse imposing on her ponderings. She had been very relieved for Colleen's sake when she saw Horace dash over there too. With Grace, Robert E and Horace, at least Jake and Hank were outnumbered, but the odd assortment of personalities conjured up many more vivid imaginings of chaos than of harmony.

Myra wavered at the Saloon window, left behind, she had been ordered to stay by Hank as he had run across to help. Witnessing such an uncharacteristic caring reaction from him had reminded her of the man she had seen in him when she had become entangled with him all those years ago. A young, handsome man who had taken an interest in her, spoken of his dreams of settling out West, building a business. Made her feel special, drawn her in with his enthusiasm for his ideas. Not that she had been sure she had understood what he was proposing back then. It had sounded like a nice life.

She hovered, unable to take her eyes off the building across the street. Hank was there, with Horace and she was not there to come between them. Well, she was certainly between them, but she was not there to physically separate them and the incidences of conflict, usually brought on by Hank, had increased to a worrying degree recently. It was a constant worry to her that Hank would finally breakdown Horace's defences and her beloved would see clearly for the first time that Hank was right; she was not worth all this effort.

Young, inexperienced, a lost soul. That was the way she saw herself. Glimpses reflected in the dirty, damp spotted mirror in her room at the Saloon revealed a ghost of a child, tired, little face with haunted eyes and lifeless hair, camouflaged with heavy lipstick and rouge. Forced to grow up to look after her own family she had thought she had been doing the best she would ever be able to do when she had signed the papers with Hank and with the final stroke of her X, for she could not even write her own name, had signed away her childhood. What could a good man like Horace see in her?

Behind her it was slow business at the Saloon, but business as usual half hidden under a cloud of cigar smoke, the whole room pervaded with the acrid perfume of smoke, stale alcohol and sweat. Even profound snowfall like this could not keep away a certain calibre of man. Men who would rather be drinking, gambling and leering than be at home with their families.

A crash behind her made her jump. "What is it now Harry?" she asked without withdrawing her eyes from the Clinic. Behind her the big oaf slammed his glass against the table again.

"Want me another whiskey." He slurred as the glass slipped from his grasp on the tabletop. He watched amused as it rolled on its side, completing two revolutions before crashing to the floor to shatter into smatterings. "Whiskey!" Harry shouted again in celebration of the explosion he had created. A dirty cigar roughened laugh echoing around him.

She poured his next drink, her actions a blur. The Saloon and its workings second nature to her now. Harry should not really have any more whiskey, but it was not her decision to make and it was easier to keep pouring the thick syrupy liquid until he passed out upon the table before him. He would at least stay quiet then. Glancing to the other patrons who were engrossed in a deep staring contest over a table of poker cards, she was relieved to see that there would be no trouble there for a little while either.

"Here!" She declared, placing the drink onto the table before Harry, deftly avoiding the hammy fingers that wafted towards her behind, slipping back to her post by the window.

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Matthew had not realised that he had stumbled so far ahead of Ingrid. Greta had stirred awake in his arms, startling him at first with her tiny little cry. She was lost and confused and cold. Seeing Matthew there rather than her sister had only caused her more puzzlement. She had begun to squirm in his arms, whimpering in mumbled Swedish as tears of fear and her panic levels worked in combination to increase her breathing difficulties once more.

Matthew had strode ahead at an intensified pace, his awareness not really focused on anything further away from him than Greta and the other two little ones who tumbled along beside him. He had only glanced back behind him now into the swirling darkness and realised that Ingrid was no longer close. He fought the panic. There was no need to frighten the girls any more.

Now he just had to keep going, hope Ingrid would be all right, he would get the girls to town, get help from Jake or if she was back Dr. Mike and then he would go back out to bring Ingrid to safely too. It was the best he could do right now.

If only Sully and Dr. Mike were here. He was sure that they would have known what to do in a situation like this. They would never have dragged all the little ones on a journey like this. They would have been able to fix it there and then with their knowledge and resourceful thinking.

It pained him that he would never be a man like Sully. He had always known that somewhere deep inside, maybe that was why he had shrugged away all Sully's suggestions that he learn about the wilderness. Even little Brian could take better care of himself out here in the great outdoors than he could.

The sharpest pain came from the realisation that he was more like the one man in the world that he dreaded becoming. His real father Ethan Cooper, a deserter. He had told himself all his life that he would never ever turn out like his father. Would never treat his own family that way, and yet every time he tried to do something good it turned out like this.

A sharp creaking noise beneath his feet caused him to slow his progress; he carefully took his next step, the creak, loud, echoed back over the gusts of the wind. Looking around it him it finally came to him where he was. The bridge! He had almost made it!

In the distance he saw the promising lights of town.

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Over at the small Church a chorus of voices floated higher, as smiling faces, created the beautiful melody of 'All Things Bright and Beautiful.' Needing no encouragement to take his place before his beloved piano the Reverend had sought to bring out the community spirit in the bedraggled gathering.

The music danced up out of each warmed heart and floated up to lift the roof. Filling the cold air with mellifluous sounds.

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The faster Ingrid encouraged the girls forward the faster the shadows ahead evaded her, the storm swallowing them up. Swirling them around and around in the blank space, blasted by winds from all sides. Her mind reeled, was she even looking at something that was there, she could not honestly tell any longer. All wrapped up the girls had bright noses, but their eyes were tired and she began to regret ever rushing them all to town. Ingrid's legs were aching with cold and muscle strains from forcing through the snow; she dared not even imagine how tired Anna and Sofia were. Her thoughts drifted further ahead to Greta, and the others. Matthew would be taking good care of them she knew in her heart that she could trust him.

It might have been safer to separate, even to leave the girls curled up in the warm tent alone rather than to have forged ahead on this ludicrous journey. But hindsight is always crystal clear and she would have worried all the more about leaving the girls behind. Her thoughts dancing without warning to Matthew's siblings, she had a deep churning feeling about them, something about their safety did not sit right.

How lucky she was that Matthew was there, her own brother having darted away again from his responsibilities. No one knew what preoccupied him these last few weeks, but she had her suspicions that the youngest daughter of the new family from Stockholm may have placed an enticing hold over him. Before now she had been quite glad of his absences, it had given her the pleasant quiet time she had been desperate for, time for herself, and time for Matthew after the girls were in bed, but she would sacrifice anything for her girls to be safe now. For Greta to get well, for Jon to be here helping them.

A new noise now drifted about them in the air, in complete contrast to the harsh blasts of wind. A soft harmony that floated and sounded so familiar. Ingrid followed it, unable to resist it's melodious draw. Did she really hear that?

Anna, just slightly ahead paused in her progress, and looking back to her sisters she jumped up and down, creating a funny echoing sound. "Ingrid!" she cried. Worry snaked its reins around her heart again. Until she took stock of her surroundings.

She heard her own sigh of relief as she felt the corners of her mouth twitch upwards involuntarily. They had reached the bridge that connected the edge of the meadow and the road that lead into town. Anna was bouncing upon the snow caked wooden boards that creaked with the added weight of the three of them. "The Church!" she cried, as through the cloaking snowflakes glimpses of light appeared.

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"Ya ready yet?" Hank asked with a shrug in Grace's direction. "Call yourself a cook!"

Jake and Horace did not join his scratchy laugh, which trailed of into a sigh.

Above stairs Robert E. had finally coaxed Brian to sleep, and his Pup and Sully's Wolf were lain protectively at the foot of the little recovery room bed. Robert E stood at the window, peering out into the street. Beyond the Saloon lights there was nothing but white and darkness. Not a man to worry unnecessarily he had to admit that maybe Miss Dorothy had been right, maybe they should be worried for the safety of Dr. Mike and Sully. He rubbed his chin roughly, glancing back to the sweet boy who slumbered in the bed. The larger wolf moved his head to watch the Blacksmith with interest as he began to pace the wooden floor, a plan forming in his mind.

Colleen had drifted to sleep a few minutes ago, the painkiller finally allowing her some rest.

Sliding awkwardly past Hank with an impatient look, lifting her feet up over his legs as he lounged against the wall, Grace carried the bowl of mixture over to the little table Jake had drawn up against the examination bed.

Sinking his hands into the thick white gloopy mixture, a grimace on his face. "Is this right?" he asked looking to Horace for his confirmation. Horace shrugged and turned back to Dr. Mike's books.

"Says here that you gotta be quick Jake, this mixture sets quickly." Horace slowly drawled.

Jake met Grace's eyes and as she moved back around to hold Colleen, worried that moving her aching wrist might wake her once more. "Hank, come here and put your arms out under her arm here."

Kicking his legs out, and stretching lazily Hank moved to fulfil Jake's instructions. As Jake picked up the first piece of bandage and dipping it into the white mixture began to bind the material around the tiny damaged wrist and then braced the material across her palm and between her thumb and first finger to give the cast support, just like the picture in Dr. Mike's book. Jake nodded to himself, it was going well so far.

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"Awww Dorothy! I don't see nothing!" cried Loren as he shaded his eyes in order to try and see further.

"Matthew!" cried Dorothy, dropping the supplies into the snow by her sides as she rushed forward, meeting the struggling young man with the bundle of blankets in his arms as he staggered towards the Clinic.

Over at her post in the Saloon window Myra's eyes grew wide as she saw characters appear in her Colorado Springs snowscape. She saw Matthew arrive and Miss Dorothy and Mr. Bray rush to his assistance.

As Myra watched she saw two of Matthew's fiancé's smaller sisters struggling after him, and gasped aloud as she saw one of the little ones skid and fall into the snow. The adults were busy fussing over the bundle in Matthew's arms and had not noticed the tiny girl on the ground. Myra watched as the other little sister tried to pull the fallen one back up to her feet. Witnessing the display of affection between the two she felt a heavy pang for her own sisters. Myra's mind ran back to the look on Hank's face when he had told her to remain over at the Saloon, but looking at the little girls struggling in the snow as Mr Bray helped carry the youngest in the blanket up the Clinic steps, she could not hold back her caring nature any longer.

"I'll be back!" she shouted over her shoulder to Caroline, another of the Saloon girls, who was draped seductively over one of the poker players in the corner, and tugging her shawl tighter Myra snuck out through the swinging doors into the street and the storm.

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The final chorus of the song was reaching its crescendo as the weak pounding of three pairs of tired fists against the church doors broke through the revelry. The Reverend froze mid-flourish on the piano and then leapt up to rush across the room to heave open the door.

The wind swept Ingrid, Anna and Sofia into the room. Panting and frantic.

"Ingrid!" the Reverend's concerned nature rushing out. "What are you doing out in this?" he cried as he guided the three closer to the small wood burning stove.

"My sister, she is sick." Ingrid managed to get out before her knees gave and she sank to the floor, her sisters rushing to her. "Matthew… Matthew…we were taking her to town. We lost Matthew…"

"Rest, rest here for a few moments," the Reverend suggested calmly, but the look in his eyes as he looked towards one of the men gathered around, betrayed his concern.

"She needs to get to town," said Mr. Johnston, stepping forward. "I'll take them." He declared, thinking to his own wife and young family that he hoped were safe at their homestead four miles from town.

Ingrid's grateful eyes lifted to his. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice weak.

"Yes, I'll come too," the Reverend announced. "But Matthew, was he ahead of you or behind?"

"He was in front," came the quiet broken English of Anna. "He was taking Greta to see Dr. Mike. She was going to help our Greta."

Ingrid nodded, still breathless, quietly using the calming techniques that Dr. Mike had taught her, as a first defence against attacks of her own worry induced asthma.

"Well it sounds to me like Matthew will have made it to the Clinic safely," the Reverend spoke slowly, glancing heavenward for reassurance. "It won't take us long to get there, we just have to be careful. I think the sooner we leave the better."

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"Here, let me help you," Myra's voice reached out to the tiny girl. The little face turned upwards towards her and Myra had to shake her head to dislodge the image of her own sister Emma that appeared in place of the little girls features, and then blurred back into the reality.

Hitching the young girl upright she placed her hands onto both girls shoulders and with a gentle guiding pressure followed Matthew and Miss Dorothy up the steps onto the clinic stoop. The group forced their way into the Clinic examination room and froze at the sight before them, jaws falling open as they gathered around the doorway.

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She was still crying he could tell. He watched her back, pretending not too, his eyes closed to slits, peeping, afraid to try again. Hurting that she had pushed him away.

She would not let him touch her. Had pushed his arms away and curled upon herself even more. He kept trying, had stroked her hair with a gentle caress, apologising until he had run out of words and had thought she was calming. He had fallen silent and then she had turned on him. Her voice making him jump. She had told him to leave her alone. Her voice had an edge to it that he had never heard before, sounded so unlike her.

Her heart hurt, she could not believe he could be so cruel. He had tried to put his arms around her, his warm fingers caressing the bare skin of her upper arms. How could he do this to her. Be so nice, touch her in a way so familiar, and yet… his words came rippling back on a new wave of tears, "I'm just not ready yet."

She had hoped he would have been more ready by now. She had been getting tired of waiting. But now she understood, he had just been trying to let her down gently, just been trying to untangle himself from her without causing her any more discomfort. If he only knew that he had created such hope with in her. She felt the tears flood forth again at her foolishness.

He sat a little way from her, closer to the fire, leaning against the damp cave wall, feeling the rough surface dig into the skin of his back. The pain was distracting him from the cold. With a stick he stoked the small fire, watching the flames as they danced in his sad eyes.

She twisted, carefully turning so she could watch him. He was leaning against the wall, a sulky look on his face. He had drawn back upon himself even more than before and she realised that she was doing the same thing. Keeping him out again.

She watched the aimless way in which he tossed the stick back onto his meagre woodpile. He looked so cold. She shifted again feeling the heavy weight of guilt in her stomach. He had been so kind to her. It was not his fault that his feelings towards her were indifferent. They were too different he was right on that count.

He had cared for her since the storm began that much was obvious, but she still did not know what had taken place between her falling into the lake and awakening here.

Except for those dancing images that flitted before her when she closed her eyes. The ones that made her stomach clench and caught her breath. They had to have happened, they were not dreams. She had known that since the moment that she had been calm enough to process that Sully was in fact there with her.

He had undressed her. That newly discovered part of her wondered what must have gone through his mind, the almost frightened way in which he had tried to explain where her clothes were, told her he had at least considered her reaction. How studiously he had avoided explaining why his head had been… had been… The way he had stirred against her chest. So affectionate, so familiar.

The flickering's…the bare chest against hers had been his. The heavy legs buffering her thighs. The huge warm hands teasing over sensitive spots that she did not even know she had. His touch on the inside of her wrist, the crease of her elbow. Her body twisted involuntarily at the thoughts. She bit her lip to contain the gasp that tried to burst forth at the images that had been evoked. She was amazed to feel her heartbeat pick up at the remembrances. There was a new feeling in her stomach, beginning to warm her belly.

Surely she had a right to be curious, it was only natural. After all it would not be so forbidden if it were not so good.

The fire matched his mood, passionate and wild. He was angry, angry at himself, and in a way angry with her. Angry at her silence, he had thought that they were closer than this, that if something was bothering her so much that she could tell him, talk to him. It made him all the more angry to realise that she obviously did not want to talk to him because her problem lay with him. She knew, she must do, must blame him for all her recent misfortune. He drew his knees up closer to his chest, resting his chin against his knees.

With thinking he suddenly realised that he was completely missing the most important thing, that she might be embarrassed to be so vulnerable in such a situation with him. That being so close, physically close, might be just as torturous to her inexperienced body as to his. Not that he expected a woman like Dr. Mike would think such a way about him, but she was still close to him in very little clothing. She was a lady; and he had orchestrated her into a compromising situation. He rubbed his knees against the fabric of his longjohns, the thick red wool catching on his stubble.

She scrubbed her fingers over her wet cheeks, drying away the streaks there. She knew she could not leave him sitting out there in the cold for the rest of their time here. She would have to be grown up about this, have to be strong.

Would not want him to think she was some frightened little girl, even if the idea of him so close now that she was completely conscious did cause fear to bubble within her. She was not sure that she would be able to have him there and not be constantly reminded of his disinterest in her, but his health was much more important.

"Sully…?" Her voice sounded really small, the faint trace of tears rippling through the sound.

His eyes rose to her, trying to hold back the expression of interest at her questioning tone. She lifted the edge of the coat hitching her hips backwards a little to make space for him. His eyes darted away for a second, before he looked back. The question plain in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he whispered his reply, his voice scratchy and rough.

She nodded once, just slightly and he knew the sacrifice she was making for his health.

He moved slowly over to her. Taking the corner of her coat from her, fingers brushing gently. "Wait." She whispered, reaching out to touch the skin shirt he still wore. "This is still wet," she commented, unable to look at him. "You shouldn't keep this on."

"It's okay," He said, shaking his head.

"No, it'll make you colder," She said. He could only nod, as she turned away to slide down a little more under the blanket, avoiding watching as Sully, feeling terribly uncomfortable, dragged the shirt over his head.

Then with care not to touch her he eased under the coat with her once more. Finding himself facing her back. His nose close enough to touch her hair. He breathed slowly to avoid a breeze rippling the soft strands.

"Thank you," he whispered, but she did not reply. He saw a shiver run through her. "Michaela?" he tried again. "Can I hold you?"

He saw her shoulders tense. She had heard him. "I… it'll…we'll be warmer…" he stuttered. Unable to get the words out in the calm way in which he had thought them.

He saw her faint nod and before she could change her mind he slid his hands hesitantly around her waist, drawing her into his body. Her eyes drifted closed at the heat his body provided; it seeped into her all along her back. She was never going to be able to sleep now.

But it was surprisingly easy. In minutes they were floating, and then both were fast asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

Author's note! I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first eleven chapters!! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Twelve._

She unfurled herself to find she was standing barefoot in the snow. The flakes and the wind blasting her on all sides. Trapping her in the eye of a storm of confusion.

Looking down she saw she wore only her bloomers and camisole. Her skin was turning a deep shade of purply blue as she observed, the deep colour drifting upwards from her feet, her life flowing out of her. Lifting her hands closer to her face as the colour seemed to bleed out of them. Her eyes widened in horror and mystification.

Feeling so small, so insignificant in the presence of such a storm. She tried to hug herself tighter, winding her hair tightly around her upper body, in a useless attempt to protect herself. But it was not cold…

"Sully…?" She heard her desperate voice with an edge of fear echo back at her, swirling in a spiral around her in the murky air.

There was no response. He was not there. She was alone.

But why would he be there to protect her, why did she expect that he would? He was not her sweetheart, not her fiancé, not her husband, not her lover…

The words too seemed to echo in the air, along with her cry of anguish.

She was alone, thirty-five years old and alone…

She could feel the tears coming again, felt them freezing on her cheeks and tightening her skin.

She did not want to be alone…

"Sully?" her voice sounded quiet, small and terribly young.

She did not want to be alone…

A flicker of colour at the periphery of her vision fluttered through the hazy snowflakes.

Capturing her attention, sparking her curiosity, playing on her desperation.

She spun her body, searching out the person; for she just knew it was a person. They danced just out of her vision, taunting her.

"Sully!" She was getting upset, feeling teased. Getting frustrated.

There was another sudden noise behind her. Turning she was sure she saw a flash of Sully's face before her…

She blinked hard, then more of him…

She squeezed her eyes tight, and more of him…

Walking towards her the storm clearing before him as he approached, his arms outstretched…

She tried to cry his name, but her voice did not cooperate, tried to run towards his open arms…

But she found that she did not have to as he was suddenly right there, and his fingers were lacing with hers…

Sighing in contentment the colour diffusing back through her skin as she felt him guiding her body to turn in his arms, drawing her back against his chest as they sank into the snow tangled together in warm affection.

And then there was no more snow.

She had awoken as he tried to slip away, struggled towards consciousness, noticing the sudden lack of warmth, and his hand tightening on her waist, cradling as he lifted to remove his arm from beneath her.

She turned to look at him, befuddled with sleep and questioning. He reached out and caressed her ruffled hair, smoothing, knowing he had created the mussed up strands with his scratchy beard. He nodded towards the fire.

"We're getting low on firewood," he spoke very softly, not wanting to shatter her sleepy calmness. "Sleep." He reassured, guiding her back to the ground with a gentle touch to her shoulder.

She hummed slowly, her eyes already closed.

He could have been gone mere moments, he could have been gone hours.

0000000000

The clinic looked like a tornado had hit!

There was a different kind of white in a thin layer over every surface. Dust floated in the air. Each helper had smudges of drying plaster across their faces and it was setting tangled in the fine hairs on Jake and Hank's arms.

Colleen's tiny wrist was more than double the size and certainly a weight she would not be able to comfortably lift without help.

The cast was not even in the shape of her arm any longer, it was misshapen and lumpy.

Jake stood back proudly as Matthew and Grace shattered the silence.

"Colleen!" Matthew cried in disbelief, as he finally spotted his sister in amongst all the debris.

"What happened?" Cried Grace at the exact same moment, smothering Matthew's words at the same time as rushing from her post beside Colleen, reaching out for the young girl in Loren's arms.

Matthew's request was completely disregarded as all hands scrambled to settle little Greta.

Hank carried Colleen's still sleeping form into one of the downstairs recovery rooms, whilst Loren lowered the tiny girl into her place on the examination table. Dorothy removing the heavy blanket and coat from around the little ones face.

"Its her asthma," Matthew explained, distractedly as his eyes watched Colleen being carried away. "What happened?" He asked Grace, seeing the look on her face and realising that he was in a serious predicament now. "Brian, where's Brian?" He asked, the desperation making him jig on the spot, rocking from side to side.

"Brian's upstairs." Jake's tone was accusatory as he nodded his head ceiling-ward, he was rooting through the medical supplies cupboard for the medicine that Dorothy was saying she had seen Dr. Mike use for Ingrid's breathing troubles.

"You's lucky Grace an' Robert E was there," Hank slung in his direction.

Oh he knew he was.

"I… I have to go... I have to go to Ingrid." He stammered. Hovering, wishing he could be in so many places all at once.

She was still out there with Anna and Sofia, and he needed to go back for them.

He felt trapped, frowned upon and yet ignored all at once, as he watched Jake find the steaming breathalyser and Dorothy checking on the boiling water. Grace was gently caressing Greta's forehead, but the little girl was afraid, surrounded by strangers. Huge teardrops tumbled down her cheeks.

Seeing the pained looks on the faces of the other two little girls, Myra, looking to Horace said quietly, "Horace, lets take the girls upstairs."

"Myra," Hank's growl was as predatory as it was accusatory. He drew himself up for a fight. "Get back where you belong."

The tension in the room increased a thousand fold. The tiny child under Myra's protective hand whimpered and turned to hide her face into the small saloon girl's midriff, as Myra shrank down habitually into herself.

Across the room Horace drew himself up to his full height, bringing him level with Hank. Head held high he crossed the room to stand protectively beside Myra.

Meeting Hank's gaze head on he announced, " Myra and I will take the girls upstairs now."

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders he guided Myra and the girls across the room as Hank, blew out a huff in disgust as he tried to hide the embarrassment of being shot down by a man like Horace.

"I… I have to go… they're still out there," Matthew's panic was making him jittery. "Ingrid, and her sister's… they're still out there."

"You left 'em?" Even Jake could see the flaw in Matthew's actions.

"They were behind me, I had to keep going… Greta needed to be here… needed help."

He trailed off at the expressions on each assembled in the clinic.

"I don't need this!" He cried his anger close to the surface and waltzing with his panic in a way that left his emotions raw. " I have to go!" He turned, and pushing past Loren who was in his pathway to the door, threw open the front door and then blundered away into the darkness beyond.

He had not even thought to close the door behind him; a violent gust of wind blasted through the clinic, clearing the plaster dust from the air and creating a vortex of Dr. Mike's carefully arranged case papers.

The frantic 'medicine making' began renewed as Loren tried unsuccessfully to gather up Dr. Mike's papers.

Only one person remained still until with a resigned sigh that one man followed Matthew out into the storm… Hank.

000000000

She awoke from her slumber with a shriek of surprise as Sully tried somewhat selfishly to warm himself.

With the fire stirred back to life with more wood, he had removed his re-dampened clothing once again before joining her beneath the coat. Closing his eyes at the small amount of warmth that radiated from her.

He had taken up his previous position, easing her up a little to embrace her, only to be startled by her equally startled cry at the touch of his chilled fingers against her stomach and his frozen nose nuzzling against the graceful curve of her neck.

She twisted in his arms; wide awake now, her eyes wide with shock and hovering close to anger.

He could not help but laugh at her expression. The deep rumbling noise rippling in the air around them.

"You think this is funny?" her incredulity at his laughter made him laugh even more, his chest beginning to shudder.

She found herself unable to prevent the corners of her mouth from twitching, his crazy sense of humour beginning to crack its way through to her, upturning her upset.

His fingers began to twitch against her stomach and sides, quickly intensifying until he was tickling her wholeheartedly. Her surprised cry at the greater contact of his freezing fingers only made him intensify his efforts as she squirmed to get away!

With a second cry of desperate frustration, she wriggled her hands free and as if she was playing with Brian and Colleen began to reciprocate, fighting back. Completely forgetting her situation and surroundings.

She was laughing now too, her competitive side emerging. The tension of the last few hours floating away on the sounds of their combined laughter. Feeling like young children playing together.

Completely unaware of the sensations she was stirring in him as her hands teased the sensitive skin of his bare belly, tips of her fingers caressing over the soft hair above his waistband. His fingers gliding easily over the soft expensive fabrics of her camisole.

The battle raged on for several more minutes until Sully, the stronger of the two, managed to capture her wrists finally engulfing and stilling her tiny hands with his.

Both gasping as he panted out, " Truce! Truce!"

Her face rose to meet his, and suddenly the chilly air sizzled between them, as both realised what they had been doing.

And suddenly she knew. She knew.

Oh boy had she been wrong about his interest.

Desire was so deeply ingrained in the deep blue that even her unsure heart could not fail to see it.

Her cheeks flooded with new warmth as she frantically searched his eyes.

Seeing the emotions crescendo across her expressive face, he realised for the first time that he felt no fear.

He chose not to hold back. He let her see. Let her see what she did to him.

They hovered there, each wishing to impress the others expression indelibly upon their memories, drinking in this moment, before Michaela finally broke their entranced gaze, gently whispering her confirmation of a truce.

With a soft smile she turned over onto her back once again, before curling back on her side, facing away from him. On the outside she looked so calm, but inside her mind was racing, her heart pounding, her skin tingled where the heated flush still fizzled beneath.

Now hidden by her position and the dim light, she finally allowed her excitement to bubble free, biting her lip to contain herself. She could just laugh at her earlier self-beration. She had been so sure that he did not have such feelings for her, and now…

Sully felt the power of the moment he had just been a part of. Felt the thrill of finally, finally, admitting the truth to her, however silently he had certainly communicated with her. There was a new lightness swelling in his chest, and to think that this was what he had feared! This wonderful feeling of allowing her in, of no longer having to keep his feelings hidden back behind his intensity. He could only breath slowly, inwardly kicking himself for his foolishness.

She had moved away, but he was not ready to give up this pleasanter, happier tone between them.

He turned towards her and reaching out brought a hand down upon her bare shoulder, ever so lightly. As their skin made contact he felt a shiver run through her body.

Feeling his touch her body betrayed her excitement in a barely repressed tremble, a new pleasure tingling down her spine.

Sully misread her reaction, "Are you still cold?" He whispered, " Here."

He moved to slip his warm arms around her once again. She tensed almost imperceptibly, unsure her sensitised mind could stand to be so close, but he was so attuned to her in that moment that he caught it. " I promise I won't tickle," he whispered into her hair. Stirring the loose strands as she laughed a little too, reaching out without deliberation, to wind her fingers into his as they curled around her.

They were silent and still for a moment or too, both simply thinking. Comfortable to be close and quiet. Their thoughts wandering as warmth built within their nest of leaves and leather.

" Sully?" She asked softly, unsure if he was asleep or awake.

"Hmmmmm" he murmured against her ear.

"Do you think the children are alright?" the worry in her voice tinged the warm mood created by their recent pleasant encounter.

"I'm sure they're fine, Matthew's with'em" he responded almost on autopilot.

Tightening his hold on her comfortingly. "They're good children." He commented, his affection for them as strong as ever. "They're smart ones."

She smiled, "Yes, but the credit there goes to Charlotte."

Sully shook his head softly, she felt him moving against her, "You can take some of that credit too, you are wonderful with them." His voice was soft and sincere.

She could not hold back her soft laugh.

"You are." He confirmed.

"Of course I am," she laughed again. "Brian's only run away and broken his leg, Matthew rages me at every opportunity, and Colleen spends all her time keeping the homestead together, and doing chores that I never seem to find the time to do."

"But look at how much they love you." He spoke honestly. "They are used to hardships in their lives."

She smiled knowing that it was the truth. She knew the children loved her and she loved them so much. It amazed her that she truly did have a mothering instinct buried deep within her.

"They love you too Sully. You have helped them so much. And you have helped me, with your guidance, your time, and your home. I want to thank you for that Sully."

"You're welcome," he whispered, unable to hide the emotion that glimmered in his tone.

"They are going to grow up to be wonderful young people. I cannot believe how fast they grow." Her voice was wistful now. " Soon they will be grown and gone and…" her voice faded out.

"What do you think they will want to be?" he asked distracting her from her train of thought.

She had to think about that one, as imagines of the future filled both their minds…


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note_! I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first twelve chapters!! Rianne x

Frozen Fires. 

By Rianne.

_Chapter 13_.

"There you go. Much better," Myra said with an affectionate smile as she pulled the makeshift toga dress and blanket up higher around the little girl. With the others helping Greta, who's breathing was greatly improved by the medicine Jake and Dorothy had brewed, Myra had managed to rustle up a small tub and with Horace's help had warmed enough water to bathe the little ones in an effort to prevent them catching nasty colds.

Pausing in the doorway, Horace took in the scene before him. Drank in the images, his heart swelling in his chest. Myra, crouched on her knees in a pool of her skirts, was gently rubbing the excess water from the little one's soft blond hair. He could not remove his gaze from the sweet expression on her face and the gentle way in which she cared for the girl.

The little one smiled shyly, with sweet and innocent admiration for the older girl, as Myra tapped the end of the slightly upturned nose with the tip of her finger, winking.

"Up you go!" She announced as she pulled away the towelling and gave her a boost up onto the small recovery room bed, where her elder sister lay, with lulling eyes, trying to stay awake just a few moments longer, not ready to accept that she might fall asleep before her younger sister!

Checking that both girls were comfortable Myra, lifted one of the spare blankets that Loren had brought from the store and fanning it out wide she let it fall back to the bed, the material sinking down to cover the giggling tiny girls right up to their eyes.

Horace leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, still unnoticed, as a new dream took flight in his mind. A dream of he and Myra and a nice little house, where she could be his wife and never have to stand for Hank and his contract and his behaviour again. A home where they would share many a happy hour together by the fire where he could read her stories like Romeo and Juliet like he had always promised. They would have to have themselves a nice little wedding, and a simple honeymoon, somewhere close like Denver, and maybe, just maybe, one day they might have some children for her to care for in this entrancing manner. Children of their very own.

Moving around the bed like a fluttering humming bird Myra, curled the blanket tighter, fitting it to the bed, before tucking it in around the girls in a cocoon of warmth.

"Shhhhh," she whispered, discouraging the soft giggles, before she crossed to the oil lamp on the dresser and with a soft good night wish, she blew the lamp out.

She met Horace in the doorway; as he stepped back at allow her to close the door to with a click. She smiled up at him tiredly, and got caught mid yawn by the look in his eyes.

"Myra…" he whispered, drawing her into his arms, her head barely reaching his mid chest. He needed no more words, the love she felt pouring into her from his embrace quite simply said it all.

0000000000

Out there, she was out there somewhere with Anna and Sofia. Both of them so small and Ingrid not so much bigger herself. Sometimes she looked like you could knock her down with a feather, but he knew better, knew her inner strength, knew it would pull her through when she needed it the most.

He staggered onwards, almost blindly, only guessing and praying that he was in fact heading in the right direction.

"Matthew!!" The shout pierced the air around him. A male voice, or was he just dreaming. "Matthew!" There it was again! Was it Hank?

It was! Matthew could hardly hold back his surprise and gratitude as he saw Hank emerge from the cloud of snowflakes just a few feet away, his path illuminated by a lantern that he had had the sense to take from outside the entrance to the saloon on his departure from the clinic.

"Meadow's that a way" Hank directed, making sure that Matthew would have no chance to begin to thank him. There was no time for that now.

The Reverend and Mr Johnson were each carrying a small girl cradled high as Ingrid slid along between them holding the lantern that had illuminated the arching church doorway. The Reverend prayed to the Lord that they would be safe, that his flock still back at the church would be safe, that there were no other struggling travellers caught out in the storm that may not be able to find the church as they now carried the beacon with them across the meadow.

They could not see town yet, but the snow had dampened all their clothing and Ingrid was looking weaker and weaker, despite her best efforts to carry on. Her chest becoming tighter with each forward step, her wheezing hidden from the men by the roar of the wind.

"Ingrid!" Cried Matthew, hearing no response.

"Ingrid!" Hank cried joining in the cries. His hair slicked back from his face, moisture running off his nose and down his cheeks.

"There!!!" Hank cried, his shout combining with that of another man's. The Reverend.

0000000000

"What about Brian?" She was enjoying this game now. "Brian…"

She tilted her head to one side thinking. "Maybe a…" her voice trailed off again.

"I think he might be… I don't know…maybe an inventor?" Sully guessed, the humour clear in his voice. "He sure likes to invent things, or a writer… he's good with his stories… or something with animals, he loves spendin' time with the animals."

She laughed softly, "An inventor! Here… in Colorado Springs?"

"Well, what do you think then?" he asked pretending to be offended by her giddy response.

"Well…" she said slowly "he's caring and very sweet. I think he would make some young lady a very nice husband one day."

"He'd be a good Pa too." Sully commented wistfully.

She hummed her agreement to his comment. Her mind conjuring Brian's gentle nature projected onto the vague figure of an adult Brian.

"Not so sure bout Matthew."

She nodded in response. "I agree, he is much harder to place, in fact I would say that even Matthew is undecided as of yet!"

"Colleen's easy." Sully admitted, she could feel his smile form against her cheekbone. "Doctor, just like you."

She smiled too, feeling the tingly feeling in her body intensify as he gently increased his warm hold around her as he spoke, unable to restrain his outward expression of pride. He quickly covered his slip by shifting their position, so that she came to be leaning back against his chest more.

"Hopefully someday. She already has the perfect bedside manner and her grasp of the rudimentary knowledge always astounds me for one so young."

"She's got a good teacher."

She could not say why, but she felt giddy at his words, like a young girl. Curling her fingers tighter, liking the feeling of them entwined with his, she was actually beginning to enjoy this quiet time with Sully. Which in their current predicament seemed somewhat ridiculous all things considered.

"She'd be a good Ma too."

Sully's comment brought too many thoughts rushing into her head all at once. She fell silent as they stumbled and tumbled around in her brain. Without realising it he had hit just that little bit too close to home. He was right, Colleen would be a wonderful mother and a wife to some lucky young man, but could she still be those things and be a good doctor… all at once?

When she had lost David, she had given up on finding a man who would accept her for the professional she was, but also, more importantly, for the woman that lay beneath. She had given up all her carefully protected hope, knowing just how lucky she had already been to meet a man like David in Boston society. She could not dare ask the fates to offer her another chance like that one. She had accepted that her destiny was to be one of pride in her work, and one of loneliness.

And then she had met Sully. A man, who respected her for being a Doctor, appreciated her intelligence for the things that she could teach him. A man who had seen her at her worse, and also seen her at her most triumphant. A man, she hoped, who saw her as a woman too. A woman who wanted so many things, things that a woman should want, but did not know how to ask.

A man, who with one look, which had passed between them on a busy morning in the General Store, had managed to unwittingly create a fledgling spark. A spark that had started to smoulder and with his continued attentiveness, before too long, had stoked new feelings that now steadily intensified by degrees to bring about the thaw of her frozen heart.

"She would." Michaela finally agreed, unable to hide the faint edge of sadness that crept unbidden into her words.

They were silent for a few moments as Michaela mulled over their conversation.

"Sully, what is it like being married?" She shifted a little in his arms, wondering if she should even be asking him such a loaded question. The six simple words were so heavily laden with subtext.

He smiled at her curiosity and could not resist the opportunity to tease her.

"It has its benefits," he whispered with soft intimacy, his lips right against her earlobe.

"Sully!"

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips before he gave into the broad smile, and affection for her flooded forth at the sound of her embarrassed cry, she really was all sweetness.

Little did he know that her response came more from her own surprise at the images that throbbed through her mind at the sound of his cheeky words.

"What!" his voice was tinged with mock innocence.

She lifted their combined hands and used them to swipe against his arm, a smile breaking across her own face, as she squirmed shyly, "You know what I mean," she whispered flushing, her tone becoming closer to what he thought of as her 'Dr. Mike' voice. Always finding it easier to slip behind her mask of professionalism when things got to close for her.

He thought seriously for a few moments, almost wishing she had not brought this up, as remembrances of Abagail were the last thing he wanted right now.

"It takes adjustment," he said finally after a few minutes deliberation over the perfect words to use. "Needs communication, time… but it's all worth it."

"Would you marry again?"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Her hand flew from his up to cover her stupid mouth, disbelief raging with her curiosity. She had let the words out, she could do nothing about that now, but she knew just how much the answer could hurt.

He had felt the air charge between them as she had spoken those words, knew that she hovered there waiting for an answer. Her whole body had tensed in his arms, giving her away, despite her best efforts to will herself to relax.

She was not asking him like that, not for that reason, she just could not be, she was just making conversation…she must be. It must be that.

He knew the answer, he had always known it, but that did not mean he could he say it out loud. Could he admit, that afraid as he was, he would love to be that close to someone again?

In the silence the tension mounted, Michaela chewing her lip, until she felt the soft skin sting. Oh how she wished she had never spoken. Hearing nothing but her heart pound in her ears so loudly that she almost missed his murmured response.

"Yes," it breezed from him, almost a sob, for he could not stand the pressure of holding back any longer. "Someday." He added, hoping to clarify. Hoping not to intensify the situation, or create more awkwardness between them, if in fact she was interested for a more specific reason than to satisfy a mild curiosity.

This cave was certainly taking them to an interesting place emotionally. A place where truth and honesty reigned, but how such revelations would fare for them back in the outside world was weighing down upon him. He wanted to be sure she did not misread anything. Did not begin to expect anything from him. He really had meant it when he had said he was not yet ready.

He clenched his toes, not wanting her to feel his movement but needing to have control over something, as the images came perfuse; and he let them…

The way she had looked at him earlier, the way their eyes had met as he had captured her fingers. Shimmering images of undressing her as her smooth skin had glowed in the flickering firelight. The way he had been unable to drag his hungry eyes away from the sight of her devouring the freezing snow. The teasing touch of her tongue against his lips. The passion he had seen rage from her as she had beat out her frustration against the frozen surface of the river that had in return almost taken her from him…

He hoped that it was not prophetic, the way that she had let herself go and it had in consequence brought so much trouble and pain. He knew full well that it could be just like that for them, did not want to take such a risk…

The more he thought about it, the more the panic heightened within him. How could he desperately want, and yet, be so desperately afraid of wanting something in such equal measures.

She let out her held breath, feeling her chest lower in her relief. He had said yes…that heavy weight in her chest had lightened some. That tiny corner of her heart that remained cold had begun to condense inside her. This had suddenly become a very powerful conversation to be a part of, and yet again she longed for time to herself to think over the revelations, her mind wishing she could slip away and just run across the fields of snow letting her emotions come pouring out of her, the dam inside that had held them back for far to long was straining and creaking under the pressure.

Another conversation, that was what she needed, something else to talk about, something that could not lead to any more bouts of overwhelming honesty.

"Sully?" Her voice sounded hesitant, "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?"

She felt more than heard his palpable sigh at her change of topic and carried on speaking; filling the air with a voice that somehow was hers and yet sounded distant and unfamiliar.

"I read about these islands once, in a book my father had, where there were sandy beaches and palm trees and hairy fruits called coconuts. The sun shone all the time and there sea was the brightest blue, and the waves lapped the shore in a calming rhythm."

"You sound like a book!" he said softly.

She ignored his comment, continuing on to change her mind completely and wish to be the belle of a fancy ball in a beautiful dress and be asked to dance the night away by handsome men. He, unseen by her frowned, recognising that he had only just managed to sidestep 'dancing' last time it had come up between them. Maybe he should learn…no, he would never need to… But he could not get away from the pang that touched him at the thought of her dancing with other men, especially handsome ones.

He knew that she was not aware. Knew that she did not fully comprehend just how pretty, no just how beautiful, she was. She seemed to have resented her looks, resented her sex, because of the limits it placed upon her in this world, had spent so much time refusing to primp and pout like she was expected to that she had forgotten that she really did not need such efforts. She simply was. Maybe she truly did not have any idea just how others saw her, just how much she affected the attention of the men in town, just how much she affected him.

He had seen her cheeks flush when she had caught him watching her; a woman who knew she 'deserved' such looks did not blush. Sully had met enough women like that in his lifetime to know, but this woman he held so carefully in his arms was certainly different. So many tiny puzzles to work out, so many contradictions. He often wondered if he had the strength.

"Come on Sully!" she broke into his thoughts, twisting to see if he was still awake for he had been so quiet, "Where would you like to go? There must be somewhere!"

He laughed softly. "I'm happy right here," he said with a smile.

"Sully!" She could not help but laugh too.

"Alright, in a nice warm bath, by a big fireplace, with a warm bed ready to climb into." He said without really thinking. Always a man of simple tastes.

She sank down again, her laughter still soft, but beginning to take on an edge as it quivered with her nervousness. A bath!! That sounded wonderful, but talking to him about such private routines! She laughed a little more as she remembered that she currently lay in his arms in only her underwear and he had just recently… her mind drifted off again as the vague remembrances of his warming touches trembled back.

He jumped a little as she gasped out loud.

"What?" he asked, on edge and ready instantly to protect them from whatever may have arrived to befall them this time.

She could not speak. All she could see in her mind was his eyes, so close. His warm mouth open over hers, breathing his heated breath against her in ways that would fog even the warmest glass. Her whole body rushed warm as her mind followed through the hazy chain of events until she felt the softness of his upper lip against… no she could not have, she would not have!

Her fingers had found their way up to her lips again and begun twisting her lower one between two fingers.

She had!!

How had this happened!

"What?" Sully tried again, sitting up, agitated now, as he could not see anything through the darkness as he scanned the cave.

"No nothing," she whispered, turning to him, "lie back down before you get cold."

He waited, watching her face, as her eyes darted about, she was clearly not telling the truth. There was something. Maybe not something out there, maybe something else, something he had done. Something she had remembered. Something he knew that they should talk about even if he desperately did not want to.

"Please Sully, it's alright… honestly." She whispered, still not able to look at him, her face dipped so he did not see the un-disguisable heat in her cheeks.

"Alright," he said finally, as he returned to the ground. He still had one arm beneath her and he wondered if he should move it before he started such a conversation.

"I think we should talk." He started, his voice wavering even though he was trying to stay calm. "I'm sorry bout before."

Her heart picked up, began to thud even louder than previously, seeming to echo, bouncing off the walls back to her. This was it…

"I wanted to tell you that I… I…I only…you know, with your clothes…I don't know what you remember…I was just trying to warm you and I didn't know any other way, I…"

She was not stopping him, was not saying anything, she was just quiet.

She could not say anything, could not speak.

"I…I just wanted to say I'm sorry, I…I don't want ya to be embarrassed or nothing. I was real gentleman like."

Even she had to smile at that one. He heard the air huff out of her in restrained laughter. Recognising that she was not angry. Hoping that he was forgiven. He gently encircled her with his free arm once again, but was surprised by her sudden movement in his arms.

She twisted so that she could face him, so quickly that he did not even have time to hide his look of tenderness at the feel of her in his arms once more. She was moving again. Her face lifting quickly to place the softest kiss against his lips. Her hands coming up to brush over the sides of his face. The kiss lasted mere moments before she pulled away just slightly to whisper.

"Thank you Sully. Thank you for saving my life."

And then she was gone, turning away as quickly as she had first moved, calmly drawing his heavy arms around her as her whole body tingled at her boldness and his gasped as he surrendered to the wave of love that rushed.

And then they were silent for so long that they both drifted into off into much needed sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first thirteen chapters!! Sorry about such a delay on this one – Thank you all so much for waiting semi-patiently!! Rianne xx

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Fourteen._

"Robert E?" Brian's little voice stirred him from his drowsy slumber. The hard chair creaking beneath him, just like his bones as he sat up straighter, his knuckles gripping the wooden arms in order to see further across the room to the small child bundled in blankets in the bed.

"Matthew, is Matthew here?" Brian asked, his voice foggy with sleep and confusion. Robert E rubbed a hand over his eyes, moving lower to rub over the scratchy startings of a beard, as he concentrated on listening, and sure enough he could hear what sounded like a lot of hurried commotion taking place in the examination room downstairs. Many voices tumbling over each other. Muffled by the floorboards between. Tangled in their fight to be heard tantamount.

"I don't need this!" the animosity in Matthew's voice crackled through the building, followed by a sharp blast of cold air that drew a shudder from Robert E and made the gauzy curtains at the window dance and Brian bolt straighter up in the bed. Wolf's ears pricked up, sensing distension amongst the humans and Pup growled low.

"Stay there." Robert E said with a reassuring nod to Brian as he crossed the room to go investigate.

When Robert E returned some time and many arguments and explanations later, he was relieved to find Brian had drifted off again. That was good, it meant that he would not have to explain to the child that his brother had indeed been there and safe and that the others had let him charge off out into the storm again. If he had been down there, if he had known, he would not have let that happen. Matthew was barely a man as it was, and from today's events he had clearly shown that he was not as reliable as he was thought to be.

Robert E recognised that Matthew was a young man, and he remembered clearly the wonderful distractions of being newly in love, he had recently had the feelings return anew with his beautiful Grace, but a frown still creased his forehead at Matthew's carelessness. That poor little girl downstairs, at least Matthew had done right by her. Though did not know Ingrid and her sisters' well, he worried as he would worry about anyone in such a dilemma. He could not stop his imagination from taking flight, worried that they were hurt, worried that Matthew would become disorientated once he moved away from the familiar reference points of town. He worried about Dr. Mike and Sully and whether they could withstand being out there in all this. He worried about everything.

When Grace had told him in the midst of her flurry of movement, that Hank had followed Matthew, she had not even blinked an eyelid as she had continued to warm the little girl. Whereas he had needed to take a moment to register that Hank had indeed actually gone out of his way to help another human being. He could not decide if this sat well with him or not. The concept made his stomach do awkward flips, but for the life of him he could not think of any reason why Hank would do this for his own gain and that unsettled him all the more.

He took up his previous pattern of pacing, measuring his strides by the panelled floorboards, knowing that sleep would not return to him. Knowing that he could do nothing but think and plan and strategize, knowing that this was his area of expertise in life. Knowing that even though he could not go out there and help right now that he could make sure that they would be ready to start out when daylight came. Somehow he just knew that Dr. Mike and Sully would need their assistance come daybreak.

When Brian awoke again much later Robert E was still pacing, still not completely satisfied with the plan as it stood, and Matthew still had not returned, his absence hanging heavy in the air.

"Ma?" Brian asked, confused by his being in a bed in the Clinic. Sitting up he was even more befuddled to see the blacksmith standing by the chair at the end of the bed. Then he remembered. All the events came flooding over him, Colleen and the axe and her arm and Ma and Sully being missing and Matthew too.

When Brian asked again if Matthew had come back Robert E had the thankless task of explaining that he was not, that he had been there but he had gone back to get Ingrid and her sisters. He did not enjoy having to watch the small boy process the information, seeing his whole frame sag and his eyes loose a little more of their admirable hope.

Sitting on the bed beside the boy he tried to comfort, "I'm sure they will all be alright." He placed an arm around the little shoulders giving them a squeeze. "Why don't we go and see how things are getting on downstairs?"

Brian nodded slowly, pushing back the covers and blankets before climbing down off the bed to head downstairs. The child walked beside him down the steps making slow progress, his limbs still heavy with sleep and worry. Robert E hoped to the heavens that Grace would know how to talk him around, to find a way to realign his broken spirit.

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"Ingrid!" cried Matthew, rushing forwards, his progress hindered by the slippery surface. When he reached her he clung to her. Feeling barely restrained tears of relief sting his eyes. She trembled a little in his arms, and he noticed the way her breathing was laboured as her chest shuddered against his. Momentarily distracted by the way her face nuzzled into his neck until she could place a kiss with her chilled lips against the heated bare skin of his neck, feeling his heart pounding there. It was him it was really him.

He drew back to examine her face more closely, his worry clear.

"Matthew! I am all right," she stammered knowing he would not be convinced.

"Come on!" Hank's voice was blasted over to them. He, the Reverend and Mr. Johnson had already started back towards town. Shoulders hunched and leaning hard into the powerful force of the wind, the Reverend and Mr Johnson still cradling the girls tightly to their chests.

Hank's shout shattered the moment between Ingrid and Matthew, stirring them both back to action. Matthew encircled her shoulders, helping to guide her as they followed closely behind the others.

"The girls, are they all right?" he shouted hopelessly.

Ingrid simply nodded in response. Unable to speak, saving her strength.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," Matthew enunciated, but the words were lost into the swirling storm.

The journey back always seeming much shorter than the journey there felt like a truth as all found that soon the faint lights of the Clinic and the Saloon were their guide. The town was a winter wonderland. Large drifts piling up against the window frames and stoops, and the flakes still fell unrelenting.

The street no longer a slippery sludge, but a pristine canvas, the snowfall now undisturbed by brave souls. Onwards trudged the group, disturbing the smooth perfection of the oblivious white, their footsteps heavy with worry and strain.

They came crashing into the quiet of the Clinic once again in a blur of commotion and noise. Jake rushing to check the little girls, to wrap them in warm blankets with the help of Dorothy and the Reverend. Ingrid's sisters safe at the clinic already came rushing from another room to reunite, their squeals unintelligible to most of the gathered group.

"Matthew!" Cried Brian, rushing from Grace's skirts to throw his little arms around his brother. Distracted, Matthew just vaguely patted Brian's head. He was trapped. He was sure that everyone was looking at him in disapproval, each eye contact made him feel like he sunk lower in their estimation. He felt like such a dolt. He felt like the smallest, lowest person alive. Wanted to run back out into the fields of snow and scream his frustration into the terrible storm. To force the anger back on the universe, to turn back time if he could.

But his little brother was so glad to see him; Brian would not be separated from him. As he babbled to his brother, hardly heard above the clammer of the clinic and its occupants, telling Matthew of Colleen and her arm and that Ma and Sully were not there and getting no response. For Matthew only had eyes for Ingrid and his mind thought only to his own troubles. His little brother's out pouring of his own grief and troubles slid past him unnoticed. In the end it was Horace who came and eased Brian away looking to Grace and Dorothy for ideas to distract the young boy from thinking such troubling thoughts and voicing everyone's worst fears. But there was not much that could be said when no one could do anything to help.

"Food! That's what we all need!" Announced Grace, "Mr. Bray?" She inquired, her gaze sweeping the chaos of the room twice before she finally caught out Loren lurking in the doorway that lead out of the examination room. He had been keeping well out of the way, had been considering sneaking out of the room once again, when Grace had captured him and sealed off his escape. "Where did you put the supplies you brought?" Loren responded by waving his arms in the direction of the parcels and baskets he had placed in the corner of the room.

"Over there," he said dismissively as if he was cross at being disturbed.

Standing to one side as he fretted over Ingrid, Matthew watched in shame as she put herself aside once again to fuss over the girls and to sooth Greta's confused tears. He watched as her cheeks remained flushed and her words were spoken with a whispered hush to prevent anyone else being aware of the wheeze that had crept into her speech. He stood aside, not feeling like he deserved to be a part of this family anymore. He had to change that.

"Here," Matthew spoke up quietly as he picked up the last blanket and crossed the room to stand beside Ingrid. He was afraid to touch her just yet. He offered her the blanket, "Miss Myra's got a bath ready for the girls…" He stood awkwardly for a moment, waiting for her to turn and look at him, or take the blanket.

She did not move.

"Ingrid?"

He watched as she seemed to turn to him in slow motion, cringing inside he let his fear get the better of him expecting the worst, expecting to be chastised for all he had done wrong, for leaving her and the girls, for leaving his own brother and sister.

But it did not come, Ingrid reached out to him, as her exhausted body gave way and she slumped into his arms, whimpering his name, her eyelids lolling in sheer fatigue.

"Matthew!" Cried one of the women, he had no idea which, as his focus was only on Ingrid as he scooped her up into his arms, supporting her carefully as if she were a rag doll. The women grasping hold of the young children to hide them from the sight of their sister and friend like that, immediately recognising that her ailing looked worse than it was.

Matthew allowed Jake to guide him through the clinic in a blur, through the hall into a vacant room, where he carefully lay her out on the soft bed, unfurling her arms from about his neck, easing her head gently onto the feather pillows beneath.

"So tired," she whispered, before she was gone, the overpowering influence of sleep too strong a pull. As Matthew placed his head into the pillow beside her still chilled cheek, burying his face. Jake sensing the tension that emanated out of Matthew, awkwardly sidled away, feeling uncomfortable. It was a good thing too as Matthew finally gave in to his emotions, letting his silent cry be swallowed by the feathers and the desperate tears to soak into the soft cotton.

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Grace leaned her head to one side, a hand to her hip as she and Dorothy surveyed the meagre collection of supplies that Loren had brought from the store. They had the basic staples of a good meal; potatoes, and a sack of beans; and some left over biscuits from the meal Dorothy had made the night before, and even coffee too, but important ingredients were sadly absent, most obviously meat.

Bringing a finger up to tap against her lip Grace's attention jumped between the supplies and the very tired looking stove that still sat at the back of the clinic, a relic of the building's Boarding House days, now used to heat water, medicine and the room.

This was going to be the most unappetising meal she had ever prepared. She did not even have anything even slightly flavourful to work with here, but when hunger beckons…

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The young boy hovered in the doorway, his fingers curled tight against the wooden doorframe. Colleen lay with her face turned away and obscured by the blankets on the sparse recovery room bed. Brian could not see if she was sleeping or not. His chest tightened as his heart beat faster, his guilt a solid lump in his throat.

He would have to go in, Miss Grace had sent him to see if Colleen was hungry. The smell of the meal was permeating through the air and he felt he should not deserve to eat it, especially if Colleen did not eat. He knew that his sister needed to eat; she had hardly touched the meal she had prepared back at the homestead. He had eaten his own and Matthew's portion too and he was already hungry once again.

"Colleen?" his voice was timid.

Her blonde head did not stir. Brian looked down at his boots with uncertainty, tapping his left toe against the right and then with a heavy sigh he entered the room. Padding with quiet footsteps to the end of the bed. He could see her face now. She was sleeping.

"Colleen?" he watched as she shifted against the blankets, rubbing her cheek against the slightly scratchy material like a cat, becoming aware of her surroundings, her eyelids flickering as she stirred to life.

"Brian?" her voice croaked. She tried to lift her arm to rub the sleep from her eyes before she felt the heavy weight of the cast and the aching twinge as she remembered that something was wrong with her arm.

"You broke it," Brian whispered the tremor still in his voice. "I'm sorry." His words came out on a wail before he could stop them. His little heart breaking as the tears flooded forth again. "I'm sorry," he repeated again and again, his head dipped so that he could not see her face. Tiny shoulders sagged, finally unable to hold them up straight any longer, defeated by his heavy emotions.

"Brian?" Colleen rose beneath the covers and crawled towards the end of the bed, reaching her uninjured hand out to gently squeeze his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault Brian."

Brian's head began to shake rhythmically from side to side.

"Matthew?" Colleen asked, taking a breath as she waited prepared to be disappointed by Brian's answer.

"He's here," Brian blurted out. " He was with Ingrid, her sister was sick, she's better now. They're downstairs."

Colleen sat back on her haunches in relief, but Brian still looked so unsettled.

"Oh, we have to go see him!" She cried, clambering out of the bed, but her excitement remained closed off to him.

"Is it something else?" Colleen asked, dipping her head in an effort to see more of his face.

"Ma!" Brian cried out, unable to be strong any longer, "Sully and Ma!" before he dissolved completely into huge sobbing spasms.

Loren hovered outside the recovery room door. He had arrived there just in time to hear the boy's outburst and now he did not know what to do. Did he go in or leave the girl who knew how to handle such a scene to take care of it? He waited, passing the items in his hands back and forth between this left and his right. He had managed to slip a bag of gum drops for Brian and the latest weekly for Colleen out of the store undetected by Dorothy, but he could not bring himself to go in there right now, for he did not know how to provide the affection these children needed.

He waited a little longer, seeing Colleen gather her brother to her and rock him as he cried. Hearing her whisper the platitudes that came so easily to everyone else, that the Doctor and Sully would be all right, that Matthew and Ingrid were safe now. That she was fine, that it was not his fault. That everything was going to fall into place for them all, he would see.

But the older man just could not think like that. To him this storm meant trouble, the idea that anyone could survive out there in that sort of weather was becoming more and more unlikely.

When Brian's sobbing waned he finally remembered that thing that had been sent to do. He drew away from his sister, "Miss Grace made some food," he said with a sniff, rubbing his cheeks with the back of his hand to remove the silvery trails. "Want some?" he tried to force a smile.

Colleen nodded breaking into a smile that she hoped was reassuring. "Hmmmmm!" she hummed, she was feeling hungry now, and she desperately wanted to see Matthew, her earlier qualms with him forgotten, but she felt guilty about it knowing that her Ma and Sully might not be safe. That it was entirely possible that they might not have somewhere to sleep or a warm meal to eat.

Loren stiffened seeing the children moving to leave the room and get themselves food, this could be the moment where he stepped up, the moment where he let that little bit of love crack through his curmudgeonly old surface.

But then the children had stepped past him, hardly noticing that he was there and the moment had passed, and to the world that little burning sliver of love that jarred in his heart remained hidden.

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Through the darkness the storm rumbled onwards, sweeping wide, covering the entire Colorado Territories in its blanketing force.

Enclosing the slumbering pair deeper in their private cocooning haven. Their tiny fire barely blazing now, the cave dim and full of shimmering shadows. The heavy skins of Sully's coat barely containing the meagre warmth they created. Each taking their turn to shiver in their unconscious oblivion. The outside world intruding upon them, entangling in their secret dreaming relief.

The peripheral ripplings of a huge gust of violent wind caused the air to vortex around them, picking up the driest of the leaves in a swirling cyclone, and catching the lightest strands of their hair and enticing them to dance. As the poor fire was nearly extinguished, but fought on in desperation.

She stirred in her sleep, her trembling shivering causing her to drift closer to consciousness for just a few moments as she snuggled backwards closer to him, seeking out his warmth.

Feeling her motion he protectively increased the intensity of his arms around her. Fitting her more carefully to him. Even to his slumbering mind it was a luxury to for once not be sleeping alone. He had forgotten its simple pleasures.

He turned burying his face into her more, feeling the soft silken strands of her hair graze over him and breathing the gentle sweetness of her that still lingered, clinging to her skin and hair, enticing him to bury his face deeper into the crook of her shoulder. It was an intangible scent, which filled his senses, a scent that seemed to hover around her and he could not decide if he truly smelt, or if it was simply imagined.

He rubbed his nose against the softest skin of her neck. Feeling the heat of her pulse thumping there as he murmured, the sensation of the vibrations and his breath against the line of her jaw causing her to squirm against him in turn.

He flexed his large hands against her, feeling the way that her stomach rose and fell beneath them. The feel of the different textures of her camisole, the lace, silk, cotton and satin all making the skin of his fingertips tingle. Her weight still rested against his chest, as he embraced her with both arms. Cradling her as close as he could as he continued to settle in against her neck. Moving to drowsily breeze his lips over her in a way that provoked a shimmering shudder along her spine. All that could be heard was the soft movement of their motion beneath the coat and their breathing as it intensified, changing to shivery panting gasps.

She relaxed further back into him, sleep allowing her to forget all her pre-conceived notions, her body simply responding as it wished. She was vital and responsive, unconsciously spurring him on. Arching her neck to openly encourage him as he continued sprinkling tiny tingling kisses against her neck, as his hands continued to caress over her stomach and torso, spreading warmth through her which in turn flowed up his arms to swell in his own chest.

Another heavy gust of wind fluttered through the cave and but they were so wrapped up in one another that neither was disturbed. What they both dreamed of could only be guessed.

The fire was the one who took the hit; finally able to blaze no longer it crumbled to embers as another heated flame took flight.

Sully's strong, but gentle fingers stretching wider, engulfing more, in a constant flow of motion. He could feel her heart picking up, bumping up against his palm, as his fingers moved higher. Higher still, the tips of his fingers sliding against the lower curves of her breasts. Feeling her inexperienced heart pick up faster.

His gasp against her neck bathed her sensitive skin with his heated breath and the kisses he placed there changed to aching caresses with his open mouth, as his hands seemed to take on a mind of their own. His caresses moving perilously higher, his palms intimately gliding over her breasts, one continuing to rise to the soft skin bared above the neckline and to the bow of ribbon on her camisole but his unconscious fingers could not manage to untangle it. The other sliding back lower to her stomach once again to press her tighter to him as his body began to pound for her.

She tingled all over, feeling heady as his brave hands slid unstoppable back together to cup her breasts. His tongue slipping out to graze over the sensitive spot he had found just behind her ear, as she surged up towards his fingers, heat flooding through her body. She gasped dizzily as his thumbs teased over the sensitive tips, her body arching wildly as his hips instinctively followed hers. She offered herself to him without shame or thought to propriety, allowing her instincts take the lead, to let her experience true pleasure.

As one hand continued to caress her breasts the other trailed a slow path lower once again. Trailing the seams of ribbon down the centre of her camisole, using them as a guide in the darkness that surrounded them until he reached the soft skin that her arching bared to him. The lace trim on her bloomers creating a scratching tickle to his skin as he kept on lower. Her name pouring out on the deepest moan as his finger slipped just slightly under the waistband, which lay just below her belly button.

At the touch of his finger to her hot bare skin, she was suddenly fully conscious. With a terrified gasp of shock and fear she ripped herself desperately from his arms and scrambled away from him, out into the freezing darkness…


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first fourteen chapters!! Hope everyone had a wonderful Holidays and I'd like to wish you all a Happy New Year!! Rianne xx

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Fifteen._

The silken darkness engulfed her.

The rich smooth blackness enveloping and cradling her in its icy blanketing chill.

For that she was momentarily grateful.

Grateful for the shock it bestowed to her burning body.

Grateful for the way it seared over her bare skin.

She scrambled away from their nest, crawling with desperation clinging to her movements.

Once she reached a safe distance she curled in upon herself, still gasping, her breath visible like dragon smoke before her.

Facing away from him, shutting herself off from him.

She focused on her body only, on reigning in her tumbling impulses and her raging emotions. She could not think about him just yet.

She drew her arms and hair around herself, feeling her insides cringe in a way that was not altogether unpleasant. Her movement causing friction against her sensitised skin. Her breasts felt heavy and full against her anchoring arms and her belly was heated with an undeniably sensual ache.

Her knees instinctively came up to support her head as it fell into her hands, as if burying there might take the red burst of shame away as waves of wracking chills broke free throughout her body.

She had not been dreaming.

It had been real.

The remaining moisture on the side of her neck was a testament, which stung against the air, but it only sought to intensify the tingling there.

His lips, no his mouth had been…

She bit back a whimper at the way her insides quivered at the remembrances, feeling the sting against her lip only make it all seem so much worse. Tears blurred her vision, her shame taking liquid form and bubbling forth her uncertainty.

She could not look.

Could not turn around.

Did not dare…

For he could be watching her right at this moment. Was he lying there watching her?

Was he afraid of what to say? Embarrassed at what he had done? Or worse, had he not realised who he was with? Had he wished her someone else?

Her stomach twisted as she began to panic.

He knew.

He had too.

He knew that she had let him.

She had encouraged him. What had she been thinking, to talk about marriage when in such close quarters with a man! To talk about it at any time!

He must think that she had been enticing him… enticing him like some sort of harlot, like one of Hank's saloon girls…

She had always been so careful, never allowing herself to get into a situation such as this. A dangerous intimate situation with a man. And yet here she was again, for the second time and look where it had brought her.

With another louder whimper she suddenly remembered. She had even kissed him.

She tilted her head back on her shoulders; looked up towards the craggy roof as she made a conscious effort to take slower breaths, to try to stay calm, think rationally. Rationally!!

Unless… Maybe his thoughts were with Abagail, he must have thought of her during their conversation. She felt her breathing catch again, as something sharp twisted inside. A deep green vein of jealously. She did not want him to have thoughts about another woman.

Even this could not bring her crazed mind to a halt.

She kept reliving it, over and over, every time she blinked. In that split second that her eyelids touched her cheek her taunting mind and traitorous body flashed up more and more intense flickerings. Flickerings that slowly became images, flashes of what they must have looked like arching together in their own private darkness.

Then it came back to her.

He had known.

He had known it was her.

It had been her name he had spoken. Her name that had sounded like it came from deep within him, as his fingers had slipped beneath the lace at her waistband.

Oh! What if she had not awakened to stop him?

What then!

Her whole world was beginning to swim around her. Her body was still weak from the fever and the blackness grew ever blacker as stars appeared to sparkle at the periphery of her vision. She felt like she was rolling over and over, like the floor was falling away from beneath her and she could do nothing to stop the wave of nausea that accompanied the feeling.

Her heart thudded ever louder in her ears and she could not help but think that if he were awake, that he might hear it. Hear how he had affected her.

The pounding only grew louder, seeming to thud back to her, bouncing off the walls. In was an unnerving sound. One she could not get away from, for she could not get away from this situation which she found herself in. Could not get away from the guilt and the shame and the fear. But she could not discount it all the same.

The way it had felt!

The warmth. The trembling tingling that had danced through her skin. A thrill that had flowed freely, pooling deeply inside her. Drawing her instincts out, coaxing her to respond and relax.

She had not stopped him. Had not wanted to stop him…

She had been asleep. She bumped her head against her knees to reinforce her belief in this thought. She had been asleep, she had only responded in such a way in her half waking, half dreaming consciousness.

Or was that true?

For the life of her she could not remember what she had been dreaming about.

All she could remember were the sensations.

That she had felt warm for the first time in hours. That the heat had simply poured from him. Seeping into her wherever they had touched. The intensity of his huge heavy hands, and their gentleness.

But she knew.

She recognised, that these were not the confused exploratory touches of a person who had thought themselves alone and been surprised to discover another's body there beside them.

There was no doubt in her mind.

These were the thrilling caresses of a lover and they were even better than she had imagined…

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Matthew remained at his post beside Ingrid's bed. Ignoring the smell of the food, which wafted to him through the floorboards.

Ingrid was sleeping peacefully now, safe in the knowledge that all her charges were safe and sound, but Matthew could not sleep. What little rest he had captured was heavily disturbed and plagued by dreams of unconscionable things. Horrors which jerked him awake and made him flail in the dim light of the lamp for Ingrid's slim graceful hand, which he clasped between his to reassure him that she was there and alive and with a few hours rest would also be well.

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"It's a ready, come'n get it!" Grace's voice warbled in its melodic way through the solemn quiet of the Clinic, and the gaggle of storm refugees came pouring from the rooms, their noses drawn in on the wafting smell of the food.

Dorothy and Grace worked quickly handing out each plate, minding the little ones to blow on the steaming potatoes before they rushed to hungrily bite.

There was no room to eat around the examination table so each found a perch wherever they could to settle in for the warming food. Horace lifted each of Ingrid's sisters' up onto the bed beside Greta who was being coaxed into eating small bites. The flickering light of the lamps making the large room seem much more cosy than it really was.

The little girls sweet Swedish chatter, clearly an expression at the pleasure of being safely reunited, lightened the mood in the room. A lull of quiet settled where only the sounds of chewing and swallowing and the scratch of utensils against tin plates could be heard. The occasional murmur of contentment followed the end of the meal, as all felt themselves full and warm and momentarily content.

Even this respite from worry did not last long for Brian and Colleen. Sat together, side by side in the small doctors chair. Their little faces had grown long again before Grace had even had the time to take away their empty plates.

With a gentle nudge of her elbow into Robert E's side she drew his attention to the pair, before her eyes suddenly lit a little brighter as an idea bloomed. With everyone gathered together like this they needed a group activity to keep them entertained.

"Come on you two!" She said with her best jovial tone. "Why don't you help me and Robert E clean up?"

The children slowly moved, slumped shoulders dragging their little bodies down towards the ground as they moved about the room collecting up the plates.

"Wasn't bad Grace!" Hank said with his usual lazy sarcasm, he gave her a terrible wink and she grimaced, looking away as she snatched his plate back.

"It was lovely Grace," Horace said with his usual respectful and diplomatic tone. His sideways glance in Hank's direction said it all.

But this did not seem to help. The children remained glum, Brian never leaving grasping distance of his sister's skirts. The women glanced from one to another above their heads, desperately thinking of anything to distract with.

"How bout a story?" Asked Myra, she too was worried about the uncharacteristically sad faces of the Cooper children. She did not get much of a response from them, so she began first. "Alright…"

She climbed down from her perch on the window ledge where she had been peering into the street, watching the saloon from a much better perspective than usual. "Once upon a time there was a little western town called," she smiled before she continued, "Colorado Springs!" Drawing her shawl around her like a mysterious old woman she crept closer to Ingrid's young sisters who were watching her with bright eyed amusement. "It was a small place, but it had a church," She smiled at the Reverend, "and a café," she raised her eyes to Grace's. "A barbers, and a store and even its very own newspaper." Loren sat up straighter, enjoying his involvement as Dorothy's cheeks flushed pinker and Jake tapped his finger against his temple in a semi salute. Myra lowered the tone of her voice as she added, "And even a Saloon."

At this Hank uncrossed his ankles, scuffing his feet against the floor, letting everyone know of his displeasure, but all knew he was glad to be involved.

Horace lent back against the wall beside Hank, his eyes never leaving Myra as she danced about the room, drawing the sad lopsided mouths of the young ones up. At first just tiny curlings at the corner and soon broader warmer as Myra told about the delights of Colorado Springs!

"Brian, your turn, what happens next?" Myra said, suddenly turning on him in such a way that made him jerk backwards in his seat. A ripple of restrained amusement fluttered through the assembled!

Twisting up his mouth, Brian only thought for a moment before he jumped up, always one who enjoyed a captive audience.

"And into this little sleepy Western town raced a man on a large dark horse. When the dust clouds settled they revealed a curious stranger. He wore a cloak" he said reaching out and stealing Myra's shawl which he wrapped around his shoulders "and a low brimmed hat" Horace jumped a little, before forcing his own hat on Brian's head! "And a bandana that covered his face. These were the hallmarks that could only describe one man."

He paused for greater dramatic effect, drawing the shawl up to under his eyes, "They called him The Dark Avenger."

Hank scoffed loudly, but was elbowed in the ribs by Horace, who was taking his stand beside Myra and did not want her efforts to be ruined as they were clearly working.

"The Dark Avenger reigned his horse to the rail by the saloon and took a look around him. He met the interested stares of passing townsfolk with a steely glare," which Brian made sure to demonstrate so that all could see, "which made them scatter as he swaggered up the steps of the saloon. To the men inside The Dark Avenger appeared through the fog of the smoke, a tall dark figure, " Brian drew himself up straighter, " surrounded by the halo of the light outside and all conversation faded out into a troublesome silence."

Brian hitched up his shoulders as he nodded in Colleen's direction.

Needing no more encouragement she instantly took over the storytelling crown. Speaking in a lower, quieter tone, which caused her audience to lean in to hear her, to really concentrate, and already she had them captivated.

"Behind the bar, the Saloon proprietor, a Mr Frank Sawton," there was a snigger in the room, as Hank pretended to be good-natured, but really resented it all. "Drew himself up to his full height, for he recognised the man in the doorway, this Dark Avenger. They had had serious dealings before."

"'Frank Sawton!' The stranger cried! 'We meet again. I told you I would return.' A deep rumble filled the Saloon as the cowardly patrons tried to push back their chairs to clear a space from the doorway to the owner behind the bar. For if this stranger in town was anything like the other strangers that visited Mr Sawton they had a good idea what was coming!"

Colleen's eyes danced as she moved about the room, swooping in from time to time on one or two of Ingrid's sisters and even Brian making them squeal with surprise and a pleasant fear.

"'I've come for my woman,' growled The Dark Avenger. 'She's my woman now.' Replied Mr. Sawton as he leapt over the bar in a giant leap to grasp hold of the young Saloon girl, Kyra."

At this Hank broke into a broad grin, clearly pleased at the actions of his fictional counterpart, but Myra wavered a little, realising who this Saloon girl was meant to be.

Colleen looked to the adult faces in the room, her eyes inviting the next player in the game, but each face she moved to looked shifty and declined until she found herself looking to Brian again, who was quite clearly eager to continue as he could barely contain his squirming excitement.

"'My Woman or I draw on you!'" Shouted Brian as The Dark Avenger, leaping up, causing Grace to jump, throwing a hand against her breast in surprise!

"But Mr. Sawton showed no fear, he held tight to Kyra, unwilling to give her up and his hand reached for his trusty pistol which he always carried on his hip. 'So draw.'"

Brian imitated Hank's lazy drawl so well that Dorothy had to look away from the child in order not to just bust with laughter.

"Bang!" shouted Brian. "But who had been shot?" He looked to each face, and the adults all managed to fake their interest! "When the dust cloud cleared only one man remained standing." Brian paused for effect, making them wait, but he already knew who had been shot and he could not keep the secret too long. "The Dark Avenger!" He cried as Hank jovially stood and took a deep bow!

Colleen stood and reached for her brothers arm, asking for permission, which he granted happily, knowing that he had done well with his latest little segment.

"'Is'e dead?' the patrons at the Saloon all asked. Mr Sawton walked proudly up to the man on the floor and knocked his hat off with his boot. 'Na, he's breathing' he announced before he turned away and went to pour himself a celebratory whisky."

Colleen shook her head. "But only poor Kyra stood watching the fallen man as tears came to her eyes. Finally it was Horan Way, the owner of the towns General Store," At this Loren perked up again. "Who finally said, 'shouldn't we take that fella to the doctor?' For Colorado Springs was a mighty special town. It had its very own Doctor all the way from a big city in the East and her name was Dr. Pike. Yes, you heard me right," Colleen said drawing it out, "A Lady Doctor, and a very good one at that! So the several of the men gathered up the wounded stranger and carried him over the way to Dr. Pike's Clinic."

Colleen was quiet for a moment, thinking of what could happen next before Brian jumped up again beside her.

"But when they got to the Clinic Dr. Pike wasn't there. She was out having dinner with her beau Tully, a rugged mountain man at the towns famous Casey's Café!"

Even Colleen laughed at that! "Brian! You can't say that about Dr. Mike and Sully!"

"I'm not!" Cried Brian indignant, "I'm talking about Dr. Pike and Tully!"

Shaking her head at him in humorous disbelief she let her little brother continue.

"So the townsfolk sent the Trooper Children, Catherine and Brendan over to find her, whilst the town Barber, Mr. Quicker came rushing to the Clinic to offer his assistance."

"Shouldn't he have been in the Saloon drinkin' my whisky?" Asked Hank and received a dirty glare from everyone in the room except for Ingrid's sisters who had not taken their eyes off the Cooper Children, and continued to watch them thinking that this was the most exciting night that they had ever had!

"Hank!" Cried Loren and for once Hank respected Loren's command.

So Brian continued, "When Dr. Pike arrived, Mr Quicker had done such a good job of cleaning The Dark Avengers bullet wound that all she needed to do was to sew up the wound and the Dark Avenger would soon be happy again. But outside by the Saloon Kyra waited under the watchful eye of Mr. Sawton, waiting for news of her Dark Avenger. 'Let me go to him, you don't need me' she asked Mr. Sawton over and over, pleading for her freedom, until finally he let her go."

"Wait, wait a minute," Interjected Hank. " I wouldn't just let her go!"

"Well, Mr. Sawton did." Responded Brian unfazed.

"What kind of story is this?" Asked Hank, but he was ignored as Colleen took over the telling once more.

"So across the road to the Clinic ran Kyra. She wanted to know whom this brave man was that had been shot for her honour. She thought for a moment that there was something just so familiar in his deep dark eyes, but she could not be sure. So into the Clinic she ran, stumbling into the hallway just outside the Clinic room to see The Dark Avenger lying on the examination table, facing away from her, no longer wearing his cloaking hat and bandana, but all she could see was the back of his dark head. He was being interviewed by Colorado Springs' leading lady journalist Mrs. K. Pennings."

Colleen waggled her eyebrows in Miss Dorothy's direction, before she continued.

"The Dark Avenger was being interviewed for his side of the story as he told about his love for the beautiful Saloon girl Kyra and how he longed to whisk her away on his trusty steed into the night and away from Mr. Frank Sawton. Mrs. Pennings, investigator extraordinaire only really wanted to know the answer to one special question… What was the real name of, you guessed it, The Dark Avenger. Taking a deep breath the Dark Avenger, coerced by the journalist's interrogative charms, was finally about to betray his deeply kept secret that his name was indeed… Kyra leaned forward around the doorway, just to make sure that she would be able to hear."

Brian leapt in, "But just then, Joseph. T the Blacksmith popped his head around the Clinic door. Having missed all the commotion he had just arrived at the Clinic to tell Dr. Pike that her wagon was mended and ready to be collected, but his entrance, knocked the door straight into the back of Kyra, who fell forward, flying into the Clinic room to be caught just in time by the arms of the unmasked Dark Avenger."

Sofia shocked even herself by squealing aloud in delight! The humour most in the room gained from the reworking of themselves into the story mostly lost on her, as she only really knew the Cooper children, her main focus was the romance of the story.

"She gasped in more than surprise!" Cried Colleen seizing her chance to grab the story telling back from Brian. "For the man who had caught her, The Dark Avenger, was none other than Mr. Morris Sing, her childhood sweetheart."

All adult eyes in the room closed over Myra and Horace as they stood together, arms banded around one another. As they beamed their smiles to one another, oblivious of their audience. Hank shook his head in despair, until Horace realised that the story had slowed to a stop.

"May I?" He asked of Colleen and little Brian.

The pair looked to one another and then back to Horace as they nodded.

"Reunited with her one true love, Kyra and Morris were so happy and Mr. Sing's bullet wound healed well thanks to Dr. Pike.

Jake coughed to draw attention, "And Mr. Quicker," Horace amended.

"Mr. Sing gave up his outlaw days and became so respected in town that they offered him the position of Telegraph Operator on their new Telegraph line and he worked ever so hard to save money until the day would come that Kyra could break free from her job at the Saloon and its owner Mr. Frank Sawton."

"And once Mr. Sing paid off Kyra's contract with Mr. Sawton and she was finally free they were married by the Reverend Thompson in a lovely little ceremony in the town Church and they all lived Happily Ever After."

"The End!" Both Colleen and Brian said at once as the room broke into joyous applause. Well all except Hank, who simply stood and watched Horace and Myra. The pair, although clapping too, just could not break their gaze, a gaze filled with a kind of hope that he did not like to see. A defiant hope, that one day this kind of story might come true for them too.

"I'm going to get me some sleep," Hank said clearly annoyed now at the rest of the room.

He staggered over to the door to head back over to the Saloon. When he went to push it open he found he could not. The wood would just not budge.

"Damn thing's stuck," he said with distaste, kicking the door for good measure before he leaned his shoulder against it to force heavily.

Still nothing.

"Er, Hank…?" Myra really did not want to be the one to tell him this, but from her vantage point at the window once again she could clearly see the reason why he could not get the door to open. "I don't think you will be going anywhere."

"Why not?" he shouted and she jumped a little backwards into Horace's caring arms.

"Look out the window, there is just too much snow… we're stuck… we're snowed in!" She cried, the excitement unrestrainable in her voice!


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first fifteen chapters!! Rianne xx

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Sixteen._

Oh how could something that pleasant, that natural, ever be thought of as immoral?

It was just too much to think about!

She tried wholeheartedly not to sob as her head began to pound with the intensity of her thoughts entangled with the dangerous encroach of the cold. She knew that she needed warmth, in the dim light her skin was varying its colour, changing from an eerie white to a dull dead purple. Her fingernails too were turning so dark they bordered on black.

The wracking tremors that had pervaded her tiny frame over the last few minutes were slowing as her body did the same. The speed of its processes decreasing by degrees until she was barely moving, her heartbeat slowing despite its racing confusion, her breathing lighter and less frequent. Hibernating, her body was shutting down for the winter, trapping her, attempting to seal her back into her frosty ways.

A violent gust of wind that shuddered through the cave brought her back to her senses. What was she doing? She would freeze to death if she sat around like this. The fire, she needed to move closer to the fire, but it took her a second to even distinguish its position in the cave. It had almost gone out, was a barely glowing mass of embers.

Unwinding her arms from around herself she felt the cold stress her soft skin, felt the sting of it against the slightly warmer areas that now were bared. She crawled again, across the stony chilled floor, feeling small stones digging into her flesh, but when she had tried to stand she found she could not. In time she made her way slowly to what was left of the fire.

She knew what to do, for he had taught her. He had shown her how to light a fire, how to fish, how to survive…how to really feel… The thought echoed until she shook her head to dislodge it.

With her trembling fingers it took a few moments, but using the soft leaves and a little gentle coaxing the fire began to take life again. She sat, waiting, watching as the yellow and red before her bloomed, feasting on new wood with crackling abandon, hearing the heavy silence echoing around her. Waiting for a word from him, a sound from him, a confirmation.

None came.

How long had it been since she had scrambled away?

She could not tell, could not tell if it had been minutes or hours or even how long ago this had all started.

She felt her exhaustion grow, her head beginning to swim again and she reached her hand out to the dark floor beneath her to support herself. Her damp hair tangled vine-like around her upper arm and shimmered as she jerked back when her fingers instead made contact with soft fabric.

Their discarded clothes, still clammy and damp, which he had so carefully arranged around the once blazing fire. She fisted her fingers into the fabric, drawing it closer to her, examining it with a squint in the dim illumination. Sully's shirt, her own blouse and her undershirt, her heavy skirts. She dragged the materials closer, drawing them around her shoulders with trembling fingers. Still feeling his presence behind her, his life force crying out to hers.

She would have to turn. She could not pretend any longer. She had to know.

Did he know? Was he aware of what they did?

She took a deep breath, and then she turned her face towards him in what felt like her slowest ever motion…

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For a moment she thought his eyes were open and if she were not a doctor she would have sworn that her heart literally stopped. But her eyes adjusted to the deeper gloom and her heart felt like it throbbed back to life as she let her upper body sag, bowing under a wave of intense relief as she saw that his eyes were indeed closed. That he was still sleeping.

Still sleeping! She slumped forward, resting on her elbows as she hiccupped back her shock, confusion, amused disbelief, feeling tears of laughter flow forth unstoppably.

He was still sleeping… how dare he be still sleeping! The thought flickered into her mind just as boldly as her relief crumpled her deeper into her nest.

She half lay, half sat in her tangled clothing enclosure. Hair falling down in a curtain to block her view. Still shivering but warmer than before. She was finally rousing from her catatonic cold spell.

She shifted her hair with a swoop of her hand. Checking. She drank in his features. Still warily observing him for the slightest movements, but he remained still. He truly was sleeping. Calmly and completely unaware of what he had done… it would seem…

She huffed out a breath, was she relieved that this would remain her secret? She felt a twinge at that.

It was so forbidden, so thrilling, dangerous almost, so wrong and yet…

Oh how wonderful it had felt to break the rules! To live on the dangerous side of life! She felt her cheeks rush warm again.

Oh boy was she in big trouble!

Yes, here in this self enclosed isolation she could be free, could be honest. Free to learn, to experience, to feel. To admit that she had enjoyed it. Now that she knew that Sully was sleeping… and no one knew…

But had she wanted to him to be aware?

Had Sully been dreaming about her?

Had he been imagining the things that she had been these last few months? Had he been as affected by her as she had been by him?

He was always so respectful. And to think that her mother had thought him a 'savage!' She laughed a little to herself, marvelling at his wild nature, she could certainly see how her Mother could have thought that, he was a little wild, but gentle too, tactile…

It was his hands, she had thought long and hard to place it. His hands, large, strong, rough, but so gentle.

At first just simple things. A light brush of skin when he took heavy weights from her, or passed the plates she served around the table. Then when she had allowed his hands to gently guide her down from the wagon. A light pressure against her waist and his strength boosting her gracefully into the air and placing her on her feet with ease.

Just something about standing so close, something so different to being helped out of the elegant carriages of Boston by nameless suited servants. It made her nervous and tingly all at once and she always kept her face dipped, eyes hidden from his to avoid their expressive nature, until she was of a safe enough distance to raise her face and raise a smile in thank you.

So often she had wondered, wondered if he knew how he affected her without even seeming to try. So easy for him. He was only behaving like a gentleman. He offered Dorothy and Grace and even little Colleen the same chivalrous actions.

Surprising that even being raised without much parental guidance that he had turned out the way he had. A deep reflection upon the quiet man that lived behind such dark eyes. She smiled over at him, feeling such a swelling of affection for him.

It had happened just like that a few weeks before. The children had been helping her to unload a large delivery of medical supplies. Boxes of bandages, bottles of powders and tonics and oils had been strewn about the Clinic whilst Colleen dusted and stacked, Matthew lifted and little Brian had stumbled about getting under everyone's feet.

Her nerves had been pushed to their natural limits, and every new noise grated and frayed them further as she tried to juggle a dozen tasks, which felt like they were just above her head circling. Hovering there just waiting for the perfect moment to fall. Brian's high-pitched whistle followed her around the room that felt eerily like it was shrinking smaller by the moment.

She had simply had to get out of there. She had turned to Colleen stating, 'I'll be up in the linen closet' surprised to hear the calmness in her voice.

She had closed the door to the room, enclosing her in the quiet of the corridor with a definite click, pressing her forehead to the cool wood. After taking her moment she had turned, climbed the stairs and hauled open the heavy linen closet door.

She could perfectly conjure up the fresh aroma of the clean crisp sheets. She clearly recalled how she had slipped the tips of her outstretched fingers under the sheets piled on the top shelf. Stretched to her height limits she rose up on tiptoe, but it still was not enough.

She had been determined to not re-involve the children, so lifting her skirts higher she had hitched herself up so that she could wedge the tip of her boot between the cloth stored on the first shelf.

Once steady she had brought her right foot up to meet the left, wobbling before she regained her balance.

Huffing out a breath she had reached up again, gotten a good hold on the fabric she had wanted. She had lifted the sheets, stepped backwards to jump down, but the extra weight of the bundle in her arms had unbalanced her and flailing wildly she had fallen backwards with a startled cry.

But she had not gotten far.

Warm strong hands had banded around her waist tightly and swung her sideways. She had landed in a startled panting heap with the sheets tangled on top of her, right against the person who had saved her from what could have been a very nasty fall down the stairs.

The chest of the person beneath her had begun to shudder and then a deep but quiet laugh had surrounded them, followed by Sully's deeper voice the tone light through his laughter. 'Are you alright?'

She had been thanks to him! They had struggle to sit up as his laughter had been contagious and she too had been unable to resist breaking into soft giggles, but her humour had quickly died out when she had looked down and realised that her skirts had fallen back with her.

She had been lain back, resting in between his legs, her black stockings and the frilled bottoms of her bloomers completely on display.

She remembered with a smile how she had scrambled to drag her petticoats and skirts back down to cover her modesty! Gotten even more embarrassed as she had gotten tangled in the sheets trying to stand. She had remembered trying to hide her deeply flushed cheeks as she had thanked him. Suddenly desperate to be back in the chaperoning company of the children!

That had been the closest she had ever really been to him physically, until now. The closest she had been to intimacy with him. And how much had she secretly cherished that calamitous moment.

She smiled, now she knew what it was really like to be close to him.

She had felt so safe. Felt nestled in his harbouring arms. Had felt wanted…

She had not felt used, and that had surprised her. She felt no disgust and her initial shame was melting away as she felt a new wave of emotions flow into her. New feelings that were so wholly in opposition to her first responses, she had felt worshipped, adored, alive.

She had felt loved.

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But they were so different. Could these feelings ever lead to anything? He was just so different from her. Such a… such a man!

So masculine, so confusing, so brave, and so strong all at once. The way he lived, the way he slept, the way that he fended for himself, the way he fended for her.

A part of her envied the freedom he had and all at once it bemused her. She really did not know much about the way he lived when he was not around her. Where did he go? He barely spoke about it with her and she could not begin to imagine. But recently he had been around her and the children more and more. Was that a sign?

But his freedom… it was such an enviable quality and one that frustrated her mind so much that it kept returning too it…

For to be that free when her life, her femininity placed so many restrictions. Overwhelming her with rules of propriety and forced her to fight for simple equality.

'All 'man' created equal…' Man indeed.

To be a Doctor, a Woman, a Wife…

She wanted all these things. Wanted pretty dresses and to help people. To dance at Balls and parties… and to be accepted for simply being herself.

But Sully… he had always lowered those divides between them. With Sully she thought, she hoped, she held a secretly kept wish, that maybe things could be like this?

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Safe.

She found herself back at how safe she had felt in his arms. She trusted him. Was she foolish? Look at what he had done… but look at what she had done too!

And it had not felt wrong. Quite the opposite in fact.

She heard her mother's voice echo through to her. Bouncing back from the most awkward conversation of her life…

"All young men are only after one thing. A young lady must be aware to be prepare herself."

She had been cornered. Her Mother had found out, as their sweet behaviour had been the talk of the hospital. Their passionate medical debates becoming the topic of many a conversations ebbing up and down the halls and she had known it would not be long before her Father had heard and by extension her Mother.

She had known about the intimate act of procreation of course. Had learnt about it from her medical lectures and texts. She really had not needed to bare witness to her Mother's words. But the delight that had danced in her Mother's eyes. She had felt her Mother's need to share. To make that tenuous connection between them a little tighter, a little closer.

She had been cornered whilst dressing for the Valentine's Dance. David had approached her Father a few weeks before and asked for his permission to invite Michaela. Her Father had granted him and had of course immediately informed her Mother.

Her sisters' and their husbands' were all to attend and nothing had delighted Mrs. Elizabeth Quinn more. Oh how she had fussed, Michaela had been bought new everything, new corset and under things, not too dissimilar to the ones she currently wore she recalled with a smile, new shoes, and the most beautiful red gown. Wine red, a grown up red, much to her sisters' jealousy, especially Marjorie whose gown had paled in comparison. Much to Michaela's embarrassed chagrin, as she was so unused to all the fuss.

David Lewis, a Doctor on an intellectual par with her had certainly stirred things inside her younger self. She had been terrified by the prospect of him being her first dance escort, how much she had grown. How much Sully had changed her romantic perceptions of love and intimacy. But as if she had not been nervous enough on the day of the dance, trust her mother to choose that moment to broach such a tremulous subject.

She had been twenty-five years old. Her sisters' had all been married before they had reached that age. Yet with Michaela and all her steadfast determination directed only towards her studies no one had bothered to engage her in such conversations. She had never shown any interest in courting and marriage and all that came along with that. Until that dance.

Then things had become different. Her mother and sisters' had seemed to change the way they spoke to her. Now that she had a date, a suitor they each had remembered something they just had to talk to her about, so many things that they all thought she should have already been informed about. All these instructions to be followed, instructions for how a lady should act and behave. Propriety, propriety, propriety…

She had begun to wonder what they thought of her! What they suspected of poor David! They had not even held hands, not even had a real conversation that was not about the medical tasks that were such a part of their daily lives. When he had invited her to the dance she had been so flustered, so embarrassed that she had barely been able to look at him, only able to make a faint nod and shy smile.

Her Mother's words… she could laugh now, but then she had been mortified. Had sat on her bed in her under things, watching helplessly as her Mother shooed the maids dressing her out of the room for their important conversation. She had just squirmed, a little horrified by the torrent of chastising words that spilled from her Mother's mouth.

But the evening had certainly started the way it had meant to go on.

With her Mother's words pounding through her head she had spent the night on a knife-edge, she had pondered her every action before she made it.

When David had come to collect her she had be so floored by the look that crossed his face when he saw her in her gown that she had flushed a coordinating colour and been unable to speak a comprehendible sentence. It had certainly evened out the look that she had received from Marjorie, a very spiteful jealous twinge evoked by her sudden thrusting into the spotlight.

Not only had she been conscious of her own behaviours, she had been on edge watching how David had behaved. She'd arrived at the ball on his arm to a collection of curious looks and enquiring whispers. At first she had discovered what it felt like to be Cinderella, finally invited to the ball. But that fairytale magic had only lasted as long as her first dance. Her first dance with a gentleman. She had practised and practised until her feet had throbbed, but only with her sisters. Even her father had been too busy.

Her dancing steps and the nearness of the couples, even with the respectful Boston distance between them had made her dizzy, already so restricted by her corset and voluminous skirts. So when the orchestra had taken a break she had excused herself to the powder room.

Her face had beamed at her in the grand mirror from beneath her tumbling ringlets, cheeks flushed with the simple pleasure. It was only then that she had heard the conversation that had ruined her beautiful evening. Words that still had a bite to them even after the ten-year vacuum of time.

Two much younger women, barely of debutant age, and yet their words… it had taken her by surprise that women would talk of one another in such a way. Had taken her even longer to realise that the woman in question was in fact her. She was the topic of the party, odd Michaela Quinn, finally finding a suitor, someone brave enough to try and tame her.

They had thrown words like daggers, old maid, spinster… and yet here she was on the first outing of her very first courtship. So they were right in a way… and she could not help but think that they were right. Begin to doubt herself. She had not been able to help herself.

She had been unable to flee from their words. Had remained rooted to the spot whilst their twittering conversation had slid across the polished floor, climbed her skirts and entangled around her fragily beating heart.

They had continued on, oblivious to her being there they had just been adding insult to injury by announcing their predictions of how long their courtship would last, hours, days at most. Proclaiming that David had been stolen. Bemoaning that another very eligible man had been removed from the available list, and a doctor at that.

But the worst had been yet to come, their laughter had become bitter even sadistic as they had openly questioned her ability to be a wife. Commented on the frigid way that she had danced in his arms, blushing like a little girl.

Even in the present darkness, a million miles away from Boston and its pretensions of grandeur the stinging tears still blurred forth at the memory of that night. So many questions, which still plagued her to this day, had been brought to her attention that evening. So many self-conscious stirrings, which seemed to bubble up each time she and Sully got closer.

Questions about her figure, did he… would he find it pleasing?

Could she ever be like that with him? Be his wife and take an active part in the activities described in her medical books?

Well, she knew more about it now, understood that it was about instincts…

She huffed out another breath steaming into the darkness before her. He had certainly seemed pleased before… pleasured even!

She broke into a grin despite her tear stained cheeks, unable to withhold it. The way he had shifted to press against her so intimately when her hips had arched had betrayed more than confidences… and echoed the new pounding in her own quivering flesh.

She groaned, rolling her eyes as she dipped her head hiding from herself for a moment whilst she carefully returned the new memories to the special place deep within her heart reserved just for Sully. Feeling such comfort from his unwitting reassurance.

She had never really known how David had thought about her in this way. He had complimented her from time to time, on her abilities and occasionally on her appearance, but had always kept his affections to words. There had not been any of these casual touches she had grown so attached to from Sully.

But her first Valentines Dance had only continued on at steam train speed. A barrelling unveiling of disaster after disaster at breakneck speed.

After hearing those words they had stirred together inside her, creating such a powerful combination with her Mother's words she had panicked and fled. Her dreams of romance, of balls and attentions thoroughly shattered.

She had fled the ball, unable to say goodbye. She had not even sought out David or her sisters'. Like Cinderella she had run away, but it was nowhere near midnight and she had remembered her both her slippers.

All the way home she had sobbed quietly in the velvet haven of the carriage box, relieved to be veiled off from the outside world. When she had entered the house she had dashed blindly past Harrison as he held the door and taken the stairs as quickly as her skirts had allowed. Barricading herself into her pretty childhood bedroom. She had torn the beautiful dress that now held too many associations from her body and thrown herself onto the bed like a child in a tantrum.

They had all tried to talk her around, reason with her. Even her Mother, but she had told them nothing. Had never been able to talk to them.

She had heard the uproar of her sisters' arrival. They had realised that she was gone, and had left the Ball early in search of her. Come charging into the matriarchal home to find her and for that she felt even worse. Guilt at ruining their evenings weighed as heavy on her conscience as the powder room voices.

Yet still she had refused to let them in. Her Mother had even come to the door and for the first time since she had been very small she had longed to throw open the heavy door and rush into her Mother's arms. But how could she have explained her fears to a woman who looking back seemed to have fought to instil them in her.

After a while their sounds outside the door had faded. Pulling her robe on over her under things she had ventured downstairs to sneak unknown into the kitchen, her tears having sobbed her thirsty. She had sought re-hydration like the Good Doctor she could never resist being.

If she had only known she would never have gone…

For when she passed the open doorway of the drawing room she had heard her Mother speak her name. Her attention caught she had been reeled in to listen to the most awful conversation of her life. Each word had stung, but she had once again been unable to move, been glued to a spot on the floor.

It was one thing for people she did not know to say things like this about her, but completely another to know that her own family, the closest people in her life, also thought these things. It made these opinions seem even truer. Made her sure that these terrible words must be true…

It was such a crushing blow to know this was how others saw her. 'Old Maid' had been mentioned once again. Just like her birthday this last year, but that had at least ended well with her first kiss from Sully…

Her Mother had been interrogating her sisters for information, wanting to know what on earth had happened. Although her sisters had no idea of the events of the powder room they had thrown out some suggestions for her behaviour, talked of how Michaela had stood out from the crowd, just looked so out of place.

Even her beloved Rebecca had agreed. Which had whipped her broken heart just a little harder so that each throb fractured her self-confidence a little more.

Her Mother had commented that she had been so pleased to see Michaela excited about the Ball and about having a suitor, but that she was not all together pleased with her choice. To her Mother it was just a relief that Michaela had finally shown some interest in a man. But she did say that she would rather her have a suitor who had an interest outside Michaela's world at the hospital, although she had admitted that her husband spoke nothing but praise about him. She spoke of how she worried that David not only shared, but also supported Michaela in the Medical profession. What kind of man wanted a wife like that, she had asked.

Her Mother had been merely thinking aloud, telling tales about how much she had enjoyed her own debutant days, all the dancing, the parties and balls and excitement, how she felt that Michaela was wasting those carefree days. She had no idea that she was being overheard by the only person in the world who would forever be damaged by her words.

A vulnerable young woman who hid in the shadowing curtains on the outside once again. Looking upon the action from afar, just wanting acceptance… just wanting to find her place.

It had been Rebecca who had finally spoken out, saying that she thought that Michaela knew that, knew that she was out of place, knew she was different, was worried that she had missed the boat…

She had been unable to listen any longer, had fled once again, back to the safety of her bedroom and her books, pledging to never set foot in Boston society ever again, but one event had changed all that…

The next morning, after a long, long restless night she had dressed early, just as the sun came up unable to lie and look up at the canopy of her bed any longer. She had been thoroughly surprised to hear a soft knock at the door whilst she had been writing her case reports. Harrison had been standing in the hall, wishing to inform her that she had a visitor. A young gentleman caller waited upon her in the hall.

David… he had come with a single pink rose. Come to apologise, thinking it had been he who had upset her so the night before. They had spoken softly for fear of inquisitive ears for just a few minutes before he had rushed away to his patients at the hospital. She had not known what to think, had been so embarrassed that he had been so worried when she so clearly had not offended him in the short time that they had danced.

He had excused himself, after his gentle request that she take time out of her busy schedule for a dinner later that week was granted. Had taken her trembling hand between both of his and had been shyly smiling as he had placed the softest kiss to the back of her hand.

In that moment her worldview had shifted… just like it had tonight…

She looked over to Sully once again. He looked so peaceful, so comforting to her. The way he was around her, it… it dulled the pain of her loneliness. Just having him there made her feel so much better, soothed the troubling ache she often felt. The ache of a person who feels out of place wherever they be.

She was so cold… she could go back to him. Curled up with him she would be so much warmer…

She trusted him; he would never purposely risk her virtue. He was in a deeper sleep now, just his chest rising and falling calmly. He certainly looked harmless enough…

She wanted to go back over to him…

She took a deep breath. She always held back, but why did she do it? It only ever seemed to hurt her more. Here there were no curious eyes, she could do as she wished within reason.

She did, she wanted to go back. Wanted to feel his arms around her once again.

She wanted to prove to herself that she was not that little girl from Boston any more. She was a grown woman, able to face up to her feelings and embrace her desires.

She bit her lower lip musing out the decision. And then she made it.

With one last poke at the fire she stood with shaky legs and brought the tangle of clothes with her to further feather their nest.

As she crossed the cave to return to him her face was graced with a warm smile. For she realised for the first time that the ache she feared was gone…

She had found her place.

It was with Sully that she finally belonged.


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first sixteen chapters!! Rianne xx

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Seventeen._

As she neared his slumbering form she became more and more sure of her decision. Previous doubts just floated away, to be caught in the updraft of the wind and blasted with all the full force of its brutality for all the pain they had caused her.

Hovering near him she began to unfurl the tangled clothing from around her, draping them over his coat. Then she had reached out, the hand that lifted the coat was steady, her newfound self-assurance overpowering the cold.

She had missed out on so many chances in her life so far and this, this was not going to be another one of them. She was standing at the doorway to something hopeful, something she had wanted for so long.

She lowered herself slowly, feeling the rush of heat, which emanated from his broad chest when she drew the coat down over her body.

Her mouth grew round in silent surprise when he reached for her. His large warm arms encircling her.

Had he been awake all this time?

Her eyes shocked to his taken aback by his welcome, until she saw that he was still sleeping.

For a moment she waited, wondering if she had been right in thinking that his previous actions were dream induced and somehow still honourable. Wondering if these to come would be too. But as she waited he protectively settled her in closer to him. His warm palms rubbing her back rhythmically to ease the chill that he felt there as his head dipped and she felt him press a very soft kiss to her forehead.

She relaxed in his arms, a smile breaking as she let go of the breath she did not know she was holding. His gentle affection, mild compared to the actions of before as it was, still made her cheeks pinker. The instinctive way that he responded only reaffirming her decision. With Sully she was home. She belonged.

But these new acknowledgements had changed things. As she now lay beside him she realised just how overwhelmingly aware she now was of how different he was to her. How masculine.

This is a man!

Strength and heat poured from him.

When he pulled her close he had trapped her right hand between their bodies, pressing her palm close to his heart. The skin was taunt beneath her fingers, firmer than her own, the light dusting of dark curls beneath her fingers courser. She could feel his heartbeat, throbbing his life through him. She could not believe how something so simple, so natural drew her to him, the vulnerable beat beneath her fingers evoked her protective nurturing nature. Created an imagining in her mind of placing kisses to that very same spot, feeling his love beat beneath her lips. But she was not that brave quite yet…

His features, his strong jaw, speckled now with a rougher beard, his definite nose, his sweeping cheekbones and thick eyelashes. His hair dark and scruffy and leonine wild. And yet in sleep he looked so peaceful and calm. A million miles from the man who had violently torn the boards off the clinic to help her use it as a hospital during the epidemic. But she liked that side of him too. That overwhelming show of masculinity had changed her, had stirred something very surprising in her. Something passionate that she had hidden from, until now.

She felt so small next to him. So feminine, felt more aware of the curves of her body where they pressed against his more angular lines. Felt the sheer size of his heated hands, which almost spanned her back completely. Knowing what those hands had felt like against more than her back made her feel as deliciously wicked as her thoughts about the heat of his thighs against hers and the strength of the muscles beneath the wool he wore. But she had to stop thinking in such a way before she went a little crazy from it all.

She liked this, the way their bodies felt where they touched. Liked that she already felt warmer. Felt sleepier, felt comfortable and relaxed.

Her body taking on a mind of its own, she thought nothing to reaching out her free arm and sliding it around him. The fingers gliding over his waist, under his arm that held her, feeling the tickle of the hair on his arm against her soft skin. Her palm finally coming to rest against the flat of his lower back, completing the circle.

She could really grow used to this.

If this was what marriage and really being in love could be like then she wanted it. Wanted it all more than anything…

She felt herself begin to drift as she grew ever warmer and more content, his hands now stilled against her back as he had settled into his deeper sleep.

She was murmuring gently in her half sleep half waking cloud, cuddling into him now freely, her inhibitions lowered. As more imaginings of a home together, of having a regular family, and a father for the children and maybe some children of her own flickered and danced before her.

Of having someone of her very own…of having love…

"Oh Sully…I think I'm in love with you…"

She didn't even know that she had spoken the words out loud, as they had breezed from her on a sleepy sigh and mere seconds after they left her lips she surrendered to the deep sweetness of sleep.

0000000000

It was the chill that finally awoke him, or at least that was what his exhausted mind convinced him it was. Maybe it had been the wind or a soft movement from her.

He could barely see her in the gentle firelight, and she was so close that his eyes blurred her features into a soft peachy glow. She had shifted in her sleep, was curled up to him, her nose so close that he could feel her breath as she exhaled as a warm soft breeze.

He closed his eyes again, feeling quiet and content. Hearing her murmur in her sleep he drew her closer. Humming softly as he shifted too so she could settle into the perfect snug under his chin.

He was coming around more and his movements caused her to flex her fingers responsively as she resettled beside him. Her arms were around him he realised a little surprised. She was just keeping warm, his self-deprecating side told him. But whatever the reason she was still curled up to him. Her tiny arm was draped over his hip, her palm pressed against the flat of his lower back. The bare skin lightly ticklish under her gentle motions. It almost felt like she was claiming him. If only…

He sighed, closed his eyes, still sleepy, still groggy.

She was alive!

He opened his eyes again. Blinking rapidly at her heady nearness.

She was alive? What had made him think that? What an odd thought…

He shifted, confused and attempting to relieve some of the pressure stress at the point where his weight rested his hipbone against the ground. Feeling her lift a little with him. The soft brush of her cotton covered thigh sliding along his much larger wool clad one caused him to freeze, as thoughts so dangerous danced from the friction.

He stifled his aching groan.

He tried to move away from her without awakening her, he felt his body betray his thoughts, and he became anxious, desperate not to alert her to his intimate predicament. Ever respectful, always the gentleman, even if his mind was not.

Relaxed and quite comfortably slumbering entangled with him she moved too, drawn to his warmth, unaware of the blissful agony she was causing him.

It seemed there was nothing he could do but think about other things. He had done this once already on this trip and so he could do it again.

Other things, other things, other things…

She was there. She was safe. She was alive…

Flickerings of a green meadow danced across his minds eye.

He must have been dreaming… He had been dreaming…

His forehead furrowed as he tried to capture the elusive fragments of his dream as they fluttered through the sleepy darkness of his mind.

But the more he thought, the harder he concentrated the more the remembrances came pouring back to him.

He had been back out in the storm. Forcing his way through the snow. His mind overwhelmingly preoccupied with finding them a safe place to shelter, but all he had been able to see was white as his heart had sunk lower and lower.

He had turned back to her and she had simply been gone…

Alone he had panicked. Searched for her knowing that she had been right there with him just moments before. He cried out for her, cried her name in desperation, but his sound was lost to the storm, if it came out at all.

He had retraced his steps blindly stumbling through the full force of the blizzard. Desperation mounting to tremendous levels. He had brought her here; it was all his fault, why had he not protected her. Why?

He had tripped, arms and legs flailing wildly as he had crashed to the ground beneath. His impact sending up a cloud of powdered water as his dull thumping sob echoed.

When the dust had cleared he had lain with his face pressed against the snow, defeated and helpless. But now he thought about it the ground, the snow had not been cold as it should have been. He had been temporarily winded, could not move, as deep waves of pain crashed over him. His blinking had slowed down, blurring the storm with his pangs of guilt.

Then he had seen it.

A splash of coppery-gold beneath the white ground below.

Michaela…

His energy had suddenly pounded back to him, he had moved like he was feral. Clawing deep into the slippery ground.

She was there. Dressed in a strange white gown of fancy silken material, which later had felt so soft to the touch. She was buried deep in the snow and his panicked mind had not questioned why. It had been so preoccupied with the deathly shade of her skin, her blue lips, her eyelashes decorated with iced jewels.

He had whimpered desperate as he felt his tears freeze on his face. He had dragged her from the ground. She had been so cold to the touch. So cold and lifeless.

Back in the present he shook the pain away. Closing his eyes against the remembrance, drawing her closer once again, the intensity of the dream had abated his previous bodily discomfort.

She stirred comfortable again. Her other palm was pressed weakly against his chest, not far from his heart, feeling its beat. The delicate fingers rising and falling with his breathing.

This was just…

He could not help but smile.

He could get used to this!

He let his eyelids lull closed again only to be bombarded with another influx of flashes from his dream. The blistering chill of her skin against his, the wracking sobs that came welling up from deep in his chest as he had slumped back to the ground, protectively cradling her lifeless body to him.

He had checked her breathing, but found none, had done all the things he had done earlier after he had dragged her from the lake, their memory still ingrained by fear upon his consciousness. But this time they had been useless. It had been a loosing battle.

And he too had surrendered to the storm, falling in behind her, leaning her back into his body for shelter from the wind. He had given up. Given himself up to the elements. If she was gone, then why not him too?

He had cradled her, burying his face in her neck, where her life flow had ebbed beneath the vulnerable skin just hours before. He had placed a kiss to where the pounding of her pulse should have been feeling the tears crash forth again at the tremendous intensity of the loss.

And then he had felt it. A flicker there. He had tested the skin again. Not ready to believe.

Yet there it was again. A tiny thump against his lips.

He had tightened his hold on her, drawing her flush against him. His hands suddenly active.

In the present his eyes fluttered open as curiosity peaked?

In his dream she had whimpered and he had shocked into action. He had begun to warm her. Rubbing his palms over her, knowing that she needed the small amount of heat that the friction would bring. His mind filled with the softness of her skin.

But he had not stopped and hearing her responding had only spurred him on. She was alive and that was something his touches had brought about! How could he have stopped, if he stopped she might be gone again.

But without his permission the touches had changed in that way that dreams sometimes do and he had suddenly been touching her with much more intensity. His fingers exploring rather than warming as they had slid across her belly, rising higher and higher. As images from earlier in the day, undressing her with such tender intimacy, seemed to intersperse themselves and he could not be sure if they had been a part of the dream or were just something that his mind was adding now only later.

In the present darkness he almost laughed aloud in embarrassment. He could not believe he had been having such a dream and she had been so close to him! Sure he had had the odd dream about her like this in the past, but then he had been alone in his little lean-to in the hills where he was safe and careful.

But to have one here, with her bare millimetres away from him! And his body was beginning to react again just thinking about it with her in such close proximity!

It had been as if his touches had unfrozen her. Had awakened her. Had brought her back to life. The thought came to him unbidden again.

He had had that dreamlike lack of control where the dreamer just follows the stream of events as unable to stop and not really wanting to he had slid his palms up and cupped her soft breasts. Exploring her gorgeous curves with hungry caresses, as he had kissed and suckled on the flesh of her neck, encouraging the life he felt beating there. Feeling her react to him more and more, squirming and trembling and vital. So passionate, so different to the reserved Doctor she usually showed. He had gasped himself as she had surged towards his fingers, responding to the pleasure she received as he had slipped his thumbs over the sensitive tips. Feeling the intensity of his desire burning through his body until he had just pounded for her.

Back in the present he shook his head again, taking a slow breath as he twisted his back into a rather awkward position so that he was not pressing anything un-gentleman-like against her. He would not have been able to bare the contact.

It had all just felt so real. Had he… no she would never have allowed him to touch her like that… would she? Oh what if he had done it… what if it had been without her knowledge, against her will?

He studied the face, now pressed so calmly against the crook of his shoulder. His heart was racing with anxiety and trepidation. His eyes darting to assess her features. But she did not look upset, or angry, or embarrassed or anything thing similar. She looked simply beautiful, calm, content…even happy.

He must not have done anything then. He sighed with a relief a little twinged with sadness. If only she was his to touch in such a way…

It had just been a dream, a dream provoked by the events of the day, provoked by their lack of clothing and close proximity, and all the stress they had endured.

But it was a good job that she was not aware of the events of his dream! He doubted he would ever forget how it had continued on.

He had slid his fingers into a gap in her dress, the thought that dresses do not have a gap at the waist flickered to him, but he dismissed it out of hand, too distracted by the remembrance of the way that the skin of her belly had felt, the way that the lace had scratched softly at his skin. He had moaned her name breathlessly, awed at her…

And then she had been gone.

He had looked up confused to find himself in alone once again, but the snow had melted, all he could see was the infinite horizon of a beautiful green meadow in the throws of springtime.

And then there was nothing more. For he must have truly slept then.

But heady memories, they remained. His secret. Every time that he looked at her he would remember, would wonder what it could be like. Would wonder if he would ever finally be able to admit that he was ready. Ever be able to break free of the chains of fear that still held his heart back from her.

To say the important words he longed too…


	18. Chapter 18

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first seventeen chapters!! Rianne xx

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Eighteen._

Ingrid had slept for she did not know how long. The ache in her limbs had eased; the tightness in her chest abated some to allow her to settle more comfortably into the cocooning bed sheets.

How long had it been since she had slept in anything but a creaky old cot. Feeling restless as the wind had flapped the canvas above her head and the wildlife had shattered the wilderness silences. How long had it been since she had even slept without sharing one drafty space with her five sisters and Jon and their own restless nightmares, and sleep talking and helpless sadness.

Not since Sweden, not since the beautiful bedroom she had in her childhood home in Stockholm. Not since her Mother had died.

She closed her eyes to keep tight hold of the flurry of remembrances of her beautiful face, the love that had filled her as she held her tight, had dipped low each bedtime with a breeze of perfume and blonde hair to kiss her softly and wish her sweet dreams.

Oh Mama!

Her Papa, she smiled gently through the heartache as she recollected her favourite memory of them. Dancing. They had been dancing, her mother a whirl of pretty vibrant coloured skirts and melodic laugher. It had been her mother's birthday, as the eldest she and Jon had been granted permission to stay up late and witness the sweet events that remained so potent a memory. Her parents had been so in love.

How all their lives had changed. How her grief stricken father had done his best. How alive he had become, dragged from his bone shattering grief by the promise of that new life in America.

A life where his children would thrive and grow and learn.

Oh Papa!

Ingrid closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the pillow for support against her wave of grief.

She lifted her hand to brush away the streaks across her cheeks and found her path halted by the weight of another's anchoring touch.

Matthew.

Her tired eyes blurred into focus upon the exhausted figure that slumbered heavily, face half pressed into the pillow beside her where he had quite clearly fallen.

The arrangement of his body spelled out his constant worry; his hand clinging to hers, his body twisted awkwardly in the chair, exhaustion had clearly overtaken him without his knowledge.

He always worried about her so. She disliked it and loved it all at once. She loved that he cared for her when no one else did. Yet each time he put himself out for her she felt uncomfortable about it, felt the stress she put on his relationship with his siblings, and she hated that he always felt like she owed him. Like she could not say no to all his beautiful gestures as she could always guess just how far out of his way he had gone to arrange them. Not that she was not extremely grateful. She enjoyed feeling so adored, but she was so unused to it, felt so undeserving. But she knew she loved him.

She loved him so much. Her heart filled at the sight of him.

She squeezed the hand he held, trying to wake him, but he did not move.

The moonlight, bouncing intensified off the pristine white expanse of Colorado Springs, made his blond hair gleam. He looked like an angel, her angel, her guardian angel.

She lifted her free hand and swooped the soft scruffy lock of hair from his forehead, noticing the silvery trails of his not long dried tears staining his cheeks and shimmering with the rise and fall of his breathing.

He had been crying?

Her fingers continued to glide through his hair as she considered him. He looked so young. They were both too young for the lives they led, she knew that, forced into situations beyond their meagre years, but in his restless sleep he looked no older than little Brian and her heart went out to him.

"Matthew?" Her voice was rough and breathless from her earlier strain.

He stirred before her, rubbing his nose across the pillow sleepily before settling again.

She smiled at his sweet laziness.

"Come on sleepy head, wake up!"

His eyes blinked open. Full of confusion and befuddlement.

"Ingrid!" he clasped her hand tighter as he sat up, slipping in his chair and almost crashing to the floor beside her. "Are you alright? You need somethin'?"

"I am alright!" she saw his facial muscles relax and his clasp on her fingers weakened too as his head dipped in relief.

"Thank goodness." He breathed.

"But you?" she asked softly, reaching up to caress curiously over the trails of his tears.

He captured her palm and began to pepper kisses to the sensitive pads of her fingers as he began to speak. Apology after apology tumbling forth in a cascading torrent. Finally given his opportunity to speak the words he had longed to say came rushing forth beyond his control, spiralling in a perfect reflection of his internal chaotic malaise.

The tears returning too, their unstoppable tumbling hugging the profiles of his cheeks before splashing heavily onto the threadbare bedcovers.

"I'm sorry, so sorry." His words breathless and aching with his guilty pain.

"Shhhh…" She soothed, drawing him into her, her fingers sliding further into his hair as she drew a breath, releasing it in a shuddery sigh at the feel of his warmer chest sliding into close contact with hers as his arms tightened around her.

"How can you still be here with me… care about me? Look at what I did" He gasped out, his voice breaking with the emotions rushing just beneath the vocal inflections. "I risked your life, your sisters lives and Brian and Colleen…" his words faded out on another heaving wave of self-deprecating sadness.

"Everything I do… everything…Dr. Mike is right. She was so right to doubt me…" his tired eyes had grown frantic.

"You did your best," she confirmed, pressing kisses weakly against his forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, chin as she spoke, "and look, we are all safe now. All here and warm and well. You were there when Greta needed you. When I needed you."

She tilted his chin so she could stare deep into the pale crystal blue of his eyes.

"You are always there for me when no one else is. I love you."

Her soft lips touched to his, tentatively kissing at first, unused to leading the affections between them. Feeling his shudder of emotion, tasting the tang of his tears, she was drawn helplessly into the emotional intensity of the moment as his kisses took on a raw and desperate passion that they had not possessed before.

Making her exhausted heart swell and beat faster as his intensity eased her back to the bed before she knew what was happening. His sadness, his pain, making him desperate to feel some semblance of pleasure and forgiveness.

She had to shake him, snatching her lips from his with a desperate gasp, her palms pushing flat against his shoulders as their aching entanglement was disrupted by a loud noise downstairs.

"What was that?" she asked, dizzy from the tingling pounding in her veins. Dragged from the moment like a sleeper from a dream his heavy-lidden eyes observed her bewilderedly.

"Something is happening… do you think it is Dr. Mike and Mr. Sully?"

_000000000_

Hank's out bursting disruption had brought about an eerie silence, which filled the downstairs of the Clinic. The nervous looks that bounced between the adults' eyes above the oblivious innocent faces below told of the reality of their entombed predicament. It was like two worlds began to exist, two understandings, one full of the blissfully sweet dream of snow and excited glee, the other marred by worry and comprehension.

The build up of snow, despite the excited youngsters, meant big trouble. They were seriously under prepared for this. The meal had depleted all their supplies; the meagre pile of firewood that Sully had chopped for Dr. Mike's simple stove earlier in the week was low. There would not be enough to feed and warm so many all at once.

And the claustrophobic intensity staled the air as much as Hank's angry responses, fogged by the haze of smoke and whiskey that clung to his clothing, had eradicated the sweetness of the gathered's amusing story.

Robert E's eyes became ever more desperate over the passing minutes as he began to realise that his carefully thought out plans were crumbling in the worst way. The best laid plans as they say, never without good intentions but always destroyed by circumstance.

Looking to Grace his eyes pleaded with her.

"Come on, up to bed with ya!" Grace flustered the small children out of the room in a rustle of skirts. The excitement of the story and the snow not quiet dulling the pangs and complaints of those below the age of fourteen.

But Grace knew that they should not be privy to the ominous conversation, which inevitably would follow.

Colleen groaned and was immediately silenced by Grace's look, knowing she was expected to provide the example. Being the eldest was not as much fun as she had always thought it would be.

But by the time the sleeping arrangements had been sorted, cots arranged in an upstairs room and faces washed and blonde hair brushed, eyes around the room were lulling and the sweet sounds of children yawning punctuated the sleepy air.

Given a boost up the children clambered into the beds as Grace and Myra tucked them all in tight, snug as bugs in a rug.

"Story?" asked Greta, her innocent sweetness almost too hard to resist.

"Sleep now," countered Grace, as she guided the soft blonde head back to the pillow beside her sisters.

Then with whispered goodnights the two women slipped from the room, blowing the lamp into darkness.

But as the invisible 'z's of dreaming floated up from the younger sleepers in the room, two elder eyes remained open and aware. Listening to the intense arguing and debating which travelled up into the darkened room.

Listening with heavy hearts that sank deeper with each perceived sentence. Eyesight acclimatized to the darkness Colleen and Brian could not hide from the dawning realisation that Dr. Mike and Sully and even all of them here at the Clinic were not as safe as they had been lead to believe.

_0000000000_

"Michaela?"

He lifted his palm from her back and gently eased the loose strands of hair from her face, with teasing feather light fingers. She leaned into his touch a little, but she did not awaken. Too curled and comfortable to be stirred.

It was lighter now, there was a faint glow haloing the entrance to the cave. He figured that behind the heavy clouds the dawn had now broken.

The greater illumination caught the golden flecks in her hair and he saw how the cold and the elements had marred the smooth perfection of her skin. The faint redness betraying the damage to the softness. It would only take a few days to heal, but he twinged at the idea of her being hurt. He caressed the curve of her cheek, with so much affection, hearing her murmur in response to the touch.

She looked so sweet and vulnerable and so far from the sad young woman he had met when she had arrived in Colorado Springs.

He had often wondered what her life had been like in Boston to have driven her so far away. He knew from experience the crushing sadness of loosing a loved one, and she had lost two, but that was not enough. He knew the feeling of being on the outside. But it had felt like so much more.

It had not been until he had met her mother that he had come to understand that it was much deeper. Seen the vast gulf between them, seen the bridges regretfully burned. As an observer he had seen the lost looks of longing, tentative gestures of forgiveness, which were considered and half acted upon before they lost the nerve.

He had liked Mrs. Quinn. She and her daughter had been too alike for their own good. He had respected her, had seen that same spirit which fought in Michaela dancing in her eyes and her caustic wit. Seen a woman who loved her child with all her being, but would always be too close to understand her, their similarities blinding them to their powerful stubbornness.

He smiled at an imagining of Michaela as an argumentative, inquisitive child. A sprite with all her fiery hair tumbling down her back, that cheeky look she gave just before she entered into adventures. Adventures like racing her horse dressed as a man! He treasured the remembrance of her as he had handed her the rose from Flash's horseshoe garland. Such a cheeky spirited smile filled with glee and triumph, which had melted into a coy sweetness when he had passed her the flower.

She must have been such a determined little character. But to grow in that environment, to have a family that could see how special she was and yet refused to help her challenge the constrictions placed upon her, instead choosing to share the prejudicial views of the closed-minded Boston society. It was no wonder that she had fled, seeking a place where she could be accepted. No wonder she was so shy about her abilities, so nervous beneath all that strength.

Yet she was so instinctively loving, so relaxed, so caring. Well, until today had been more guarded around him, but he had seen her love overflow around the children. A love he felt drawn into. The children had really accepted her and made her feel welcome, made her life in Colorado Springs so much richer.

It had not been easy of course, but he was extremely glad that Horace had overlooked that middle initial which had led to Michaela's invitation to fill the position of Colorado Springs town Doctor.

Her sadness had filled her when she had first come, had seemed to flow in waves beneath her skin and intensify the confusion and haunting look of a lost soul that she had fought hard to hide from onlookers. He had been glad when Charlotte Cooper had taken her under her wing. Widow Cooper had been the single voice of sanity and equality for so long that the townsfolk of Colorado Springs had been unable to fight her irrepressible personality and had grown to love and respect her wisdom. He had not been able to think of a better stroke of good fortune than for Michaela and Charlotte to become friends. Even in her untimely death Charlotte had enriched Michaela's life. Leaving the Doctor her own beloved and beautiful children.

That lost woman was almost completely gone now; her sadness had faded with the irrepressible influence of the Cooper children and the life changing experience of living on the Frontier. She had bloomed before his eyes, never effaced by any trial, forever encouraging even with her last ounce of strength. Such spirit. Such vital enthusiasm for life. He was awed that so a small woman could have brought about such dramatic change in the so often hostile Colorado Springs community against all the opposition. And yet she was so vulnerable, so young and inexperienced in so many of the more basic life challenges.

To think that she had unnerved him at first. He smiled down at her innocent face.

At their first close contact he had been stunned to instantly have been able to see past the fancy trimmings of her clothing to the deep vastness of the pain her eyes betrayed to him. It had chilled him, and then set his heart aflame, as in the moment of their first eye contact he had been taken aback by the recognition of a soul which held as much pain as his own. The sorrow he had seen in her eyes had so intensely matched his own that she had taken his breath away and all social divides had simply fallen away in a moment of plain human connection. He had seen the longing, the loneliness, the need for love and acceptance, so perfectly mirroring his own secret desires.

And from that moment he had been unable to take his eyes from her. Drawn in by her bewitching personality. He had been forced to fight against his unrelenting curiosity, to fight to keep his distance from her. But over time his defences had begun to breakdown, he had been unable to maintain the fight, had almost forgotten why he had been placed under this self-imposed exile.

When was the last time he been able to think about anything but her?

When had she become the first thought he had in the morning and the last before he slept at night?

When had these thoughts become his daily companions through his hunting trips, and scouting trips and working for Robert E?

He found he could not say, she had simply entangled herself into his existence and although he had resisted at first out of respect for Abagail, he had been unable to maintain his detachment.

When he had rediscovered what it felt like to be accepted he had been lost to it, of having somewhere to go for a family meal in the evenings, of having adult conversations with someone who challenged his mind and frustrated him all at once. To have someone who taught him things and someone who respected his talents and expertise. Someone who listened when he had something to say and did not force him to talk unless he really had too.

She had shown him her strengths and her vulnerability, breaking into tears before him, placing her trust in him, showing herself at her weakest without fearing shame or reproach. The way she accepted his comfort making his heart break right along with hers…

He found he could not say why he still kept the remaining emotional distance, why he resisted the overwhelming impulses he felt to touch her, to allow his fingers to linger when he helped her down from the wagon or wished her goodnight with a gentle touch to her shoulder or her arm. Or why he was becoming more and more conscious of the way it felt to be accepted as a member of the family by her and the Cooper children. The way that he just knew that they set him a place at their table each night even when he had not seen them all day, the way they waited until his arrival to serve the meal, greeting him with smiles and excitement and stories of their day.

Before Brian's operation she had told him 'No family' and the words had echoed with so many meanings that his heart had raced and his mind had followed suit. She had turned and gone, not noticing the looks that the townsfolk had shared at her statement.

Did he resist because of what others might think? That others might laugh, wondering what right he had to think he could care for a woman like her? Dare to fall for a woman of her standing? Or was it because of what she might think? What she might interpret from his intentions?

But with those two words she had clearly announced where she stood on this matter… 'No Family!'

He shifted, his thoughts making him more uncomfortable and he squirmed physically without meaning too. Her eyelids fluttered at his movement, but luckily she did not awaken, as his own self-doubts flooded over him raising so many more questions. Her continued slumber granted him the much needed and much revered time to think.

How could he dare to even consider that he could ever be enough for her? Could provide her and the children with all the things they needed? He had seen enough from her fumbling and stumbling actions upon arriving in Colorado to realise just how unused to doing things for herself she had been. It spoke volumes of the life she left behind in Boston. The clothes she wore, the few personal belongings that made the drafty cabin he had loaned her cosy, were quite clearly more expensive than the homestead had been to build. The servants she must have had, the luxuries, the elegance. How could she ever be happy here in simple Colorado Springs, in a 'shack' as her Mother had called it? How could he ever keep her in the manner to which she had been accustomed, the manner in which she deserved to be kept?

That first trip they had taken to the homestead…the look she had given him as he had forced her up onto that horse! That look which had spoken volumes of her inexperience in the matters of passion…

Sidetracked for a moment her recalled with a dart that he had gained an almost cruel pleasure from treating a woman like Michaela that way. He had seen a flicker of her fire when she had stood up to a man as steadfast in his beliefs as Loren Bray. Not a soul in the Mercantile had been prepared for the whirlwind that was to be Dr. Michaela Quinn. He had not expected such an action from this pretty little creature in the fancy dress. She had been a conundrum to him right from the start and he had been unable to resist testing her, seeing what she was made of.

The homestead too had been almost a game; he had been thinking she would have fled horrified at the sight of it, but the offer had been a real one. He had been only too aware of the great service a doctor could provide to the townsfolk of Colorado Springs. But he had been like a little boy, confused by his feelings and taking that aggression out upon the little girl who stirred them within him. His version of pulling the pretty girls braids in the schoolroom, or knocking her books to the floor. He had been angry at himself for wanting her attention and he had realised that in a flash when she had accepted his offer of a dollar a month rent and to hide it he had hurriedly fled before she had chance to catch on to him.

He closed his eyes in shame at the way he had acted, hugging her to him gently, in an instinctive apology. He had treated her so rudely; he hadn't even told her his name and yet she had risen to the occasion, met him proudly. Determined to not falter to the anxiety that he later recognised after learning her responses more carefully. He had known then that she could make it, that she had enough personal strength to survive. He had left her there in the middle of nowhere, with the old horse she could not ride and no idea which way was back to town. He had narcissistically thought he was teaching her something. Truthfully he had been fighting his internal battle against the power she had already unknowingly held over him and had been angry with himself and taken it out on her.

She had proved him right though, she had more than survived, she had thrived.

He nuzzled his nose against the downy soft of her hair, placing a sweet kiss there. There was that gentle tantalising scent again. He exhaled, his warm breath drifting the light loose strands.

This was almost perfect. He lowered his chin, the stubble snagging on the golden threads as he dipped to press a second kiss to her forehead, causing her to stir again. This was so nice, so familiar. His palm glided over her back again from shoulder to waist, warming. The materials smooth and sensual beneath his fingers. He would have laughed at the suggestion of even glimpsing her in her underwear again after his surreptitious sidelong glances on their last expedition, but to be allowed to hold her clad in this fashion… he felt like he was dreaming! And what underthings! He had been stunned… such finery…hidden under all her layers. He knew that she had not meant for anyone to see her in them today, but just that thought that she might be wearing them under her all her clothing in future, had been wearing them in the past?

She felt so female in his arms. Her soft curves, moulded to him. So much smaller than in all her clothes. He felt so male against her, so large and somewhat roughly hewn and clumsy. There was nothing like her skin, his fingers absent-mindedly began to stroke over her exposed upper arm. A gentle teasing that enticed goose bumps across the sensitive flesh. He watched amazed as the path of his fingertips elicited a shiver through her body and for a moment he could feel her squirming in his arms again as he had in his dream. It still felt so real…

He took a deep breath, easing his mind away from such a dangerous topic.

He lifted his attentions from her to consider the imminent future, anything to use as a distraction. It was even lighter now, a beam of sunlight glided gracefully from the entrance, bouncing over the rugged floor to flood the darkness. He wondered if it had stopped snowing yet…

He should go and look… but that would mean having to move and possibly having to awaken her…

She sighed against him as if trying to encourage his decision…

He broke into a grin; well… she was right and she looked so comfortable and he never could fight with such a sleeping beauty…

Looking at the weather could wait that few more minutes…


	19. Chapter 19

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first eighteen chapters!! Rianne xx

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Nineteen._

Matthew stared at her confused for a moment, the passion of their entanglement still pounding and leaving him breathless and shaking with it. "Huh?!" he asked, his forehead creasing as he turned away from her following her gaze in the direction of the door.

"Do you think that sound was Dr. Mike and Mr. Sully coming back?" Ingrid said slower, coming around from her haze in less time than Matthew.

"I'll a… I'll go see." He stammered, lifting his body away from hers, rising to stand upon unsteady legs. Reaching up his lightly trembling hands he gently unfurled her fingers from their strangle hold upon the material of his shirt. He then kissed her once more with nothing but love and sweetness caressing her hair softly as he eased his lips away.

"I'll go see." He repeated, "rest." He said dipping his head and raising an eyebrow at her in mock sternness.

She smiled meekly back at him, tired once again and quite happy to drift back into the warm bed covers.

By the time Matthew had crossed the room to the door her eyes were already closed. He paused reaching up to scrub away the evidence of his childish tears. Could not let men like Hank, Jake and Loren see then, he would never live it down. With Ingrid he could cry.

With one last look back, he opened the door, sliding out into the hallway. He wished he did not have to leave her, but he needed to find out if Dr. Mike and Sully were indeed back and safe, that would be one heavy weight off his mind and he was not going far. He moved slowly down the hall towards the stairs, pausing only when he heard footsteps and voices approaching.

Grace and Myra were shooing the children up to bed and away from what had just taken place downstairs. He could not tell if that meant it was bad news or good.

As the voices got closer he felt a sudden panic well up in his chest. He just could not bear to face them. Colleen and Brian. Could not bear to make up lies about everything being well and everyone being all right. He could not even make those lies to himself right now.

So he hid, pressing his back to the wall around the corner from where the children were being herded into the bedroom, listening to their blissful chatter. Their excitement instead of cheering him deepened that pang in his chest. Oh to have that freedom of youth again. He barely remembered that feeling. He had not had such childlike illusions since his father had gone.

How could he be jealous of them? Of their delight at simple things like snow… how could he be so small as to begrudge them of what he had always craved; when he knew that by denying them this simple luxury they would inevitably grow to know the pain he had.

He loved each and every one of those children. He had vowed to provide them with everything he could to the best of his ability. Such pressure on one barely old enough to be considered an adult himself.

He just couldn't face them right now. If he had a choice he would have hidden from everyone. But an adult must face the pains of reality; meet the misfortunes of living with broad shoulders and a heavy heart. But was he truly an adult yet?

Once the door on the children creaked shut behind them swallowing them into the idyllic innocence of their youth, he made his stealth move. Walking on quiet feet down the worn steps he had climbed so many times as a child. This building had so many memories for him. Ever since Dr. Mike had bought the place he had been haunted by the past. Always half expecting his mother to step around the next corner in this higgledy-piggledy arrangement of a house. A building which had been altered and twisted to allow as many rooms for as many guests as possible. His father, always with his thoughts in the direction of greed.

With each step toward the examination room, his mother's old kitchen, he felt that lead weight in his chest grow heavier. His heart raced, thumping harder and harder against the lump of confusion and worry in his breast. He could already hear the raised voices, and he had already come to the sad conclusion that Dr. Mike's usual strident voice was not a part of the conversation taking place.

He felt the tears sting his eyes again at the realisation that there was a good chance that they were in fact not back. He drew a deep breath hoping that the flood of fear would abate, but it did not, it only got worse and he paused with his hand against the door handle of the clinic examination room. Seeing his fingers shaking he shook his hands, trying to alleviate the tremblings, but it only seemed to make matters worse.

All the voices in the clinic seemed to be flooding out of the room, seeping out via the cracks under the door, fleeing the dreaded reality, the heavy words making the air around him throb and grow darker. He needed a moment longer. Using the wall as a guide he slid down the corridor, away from the entrance to the clinic room and into a much smaller room further down the hall. Without thought to his movements he closed the door behind him with exaggerated quiet, as if barricading himself against all the bad thoughts. Once concealed he sunk to the floor, his back sliding down the wood of the door, his shirt snagging against the rough splintered surface and hindering his progress. It felt like forever passed before his body finally sank down in a heap and his head fell between his knees in an instinctive attempt to calm his rushing emotions and protect him from his own chaotic fears.

How long he sat there he did not know. The darkness protected him and kept his panic to a minimum. He tensed when he heard more footsteps approaching; Grace and Myra, returning downstairs after caring for the children, doing the job that he had been supposed to do. He heard them enter the clinic, each movement they made sounding deafening to him. Heard them get dragged back into the powerful pull of the angry conversation, heard their voices rise and get stirred into the cacophonous noise of it all.

He lifted his head, resting his chin against his knees. Blinking out blindly into the darkness before him. As he sat there the darkness before him became filled with more memories. Of Dr. Mike offering him the money if she won the horse race, her appearance silly with her charcoal moustache and stubble and a combination of his clothing! Sully, encouraging him to grow to be a man, to take a rite of passage, sitting in his stone circle. The determination, the skills, the love that they showed him without condition. They were his family. You put yourself aside for family.

In that moment he knew then that he must go. Knew then that these arguments had gone on long enough. He had to go and search for them. For he just had this feeling. This feeling in the pit of his stomach that they would need help, if not now… then soon.

So he stood, a new determination straightening him to his full height, his shoulders drawing back strong and proud. The hand he reached for the door handle with was now steady.

Moving down the hall he could hear the argument continuing, could hear the same voices stamping out the same ideas and suggestions over and over again. For a moment he looked ceiling ward, wondering if the strained voices would be heard and be disturbing to the children. He knew from past experience just how easily the sound of raised voices travelled through this house. He remembered the fear of lying in bed, peering out of his bed covers, watching Brian as a baby slumbering in his cot, praying that the sounds his mother and father made would not awaken him. But no sounds drifted down from the upstairs level and so he hoped that the children slept, for their own good.

He had reached the clinic room. He took a deep breath and then twisted the handle. His pushing the door open halted all the conversations in the room. The chaotic crashing of words over words, which had been tumbling and rolling through the room and causing more anger and distress than drawing conclusions of a kind, was instantly muted by his entrance.

Each person in the clinic whirled to face him and the only thing he could register, the only thing clear to him was the recognition that Dr. Mike and Sully really were not there. That his one thin lifeline of hope was gone.

He had barely registered that he was the focus of such attention.

The assembled each immediately and without conscious thought began to take stock of Matthew. His earlier behaviours, his stressed and anxious appearance, the haunted red rimmed eyes, his clothes sleep mussed and askew.

In the eyes of the assembled he was stuck, stuck between the eternal divide of child and adult. As the frozen moment continued on the grown ups in the room all silently debated whether or not to continue their discussion in his presence. Was he responsible enough to hear their words? Was he too young to bear the strain of adulthood? Would he bear up to the weight that may follow if Dr. Mike and Sully never returned? The responsibility of caring for his siblings without Dr. Mike's help?

But who was acting grown up? Who could prioritise in such a situation? Who could be relied upon? They needed to organise their traumas into the order of most pressing challenge first, needed to put aside childish squabblings. To forgive past digressions and concentrate on the important things.

"How is Ingrid?" asked Grace, finally breaking the silence weighted by the ominous thinking. For she knew that their arguing was getting them nowhere.

Matthew's distracted mind took him a moment to focus, "She's sleeping." He shifted on the spot, all eyes in the room were still upon him and he felt uncomfortable under such scrutiny. "Dr. Mike? Sully?"

He already knew the answer to his unasked questioning. He was met by a chorus of shrugs and shaking heads, accompanied by the haunted eyes. Eyes of those loosing hope, eyes of those whose rural lives had led them to see more suffering than mere humans should. But some could be relied upon, some had a faint flicker of determined spirit still burning behind the shadowed looks and one such hero spoke first.

"I say we head out there at first light. The clouds look like it might ease by day break." Robert E's voice brought the room back to the matter at hand. "We know that they were headed to the reservation. Could head out that way, they might have made it that far, might have found shelter on the way?"

He had barely taken breath before the others leapt straight back in, each fighting again for dominance.

It was like they had taken up different fighting positions. Different corners.

Jake, Loren and Hank all with their own interests at heart, and Dorothy, the Reverend, Myra, Horace and of course Robert E. on the side of the right. It was only Mr. Johnson who stood to one side, who saw the situation unmarred by the influences of love and friendships. The only person to see it clearly.

"It aint that far to the reservation. I go by it on my way to my homestead from town, we could make it there and back before night fall safely enough I'd bet, if we set off early?" Mr. Johnson's unfamiliar voice was so full of authority and so composed that everyone listened and then no one spoke for a few more minutes, mulling over the idea.

Hank wanted out of this building and he began to protest it loudly. He cared not for Dr. Mike and Sully, that was clear, thought that they should have thought better before heading out.

"If they was stupid enough to get themselves into this kind of trouble again, why should we always been the ones to go rescuin'em? They'll have made it to that damned reservation anyway, Sully aint stupid'bout the weather. I want out of here, got me customers and me girls needs me at the saloon." He nodded his head over towards the window and the snow coated building beyond it. "Could be drinkin' me dry over there!" He said with an ignored smirk.

Hank had always believed that you looked out for yourself first, your saloon patrons second and then everyone else. Never one with much in the way of family he had lived for himself alone for far too long. Depended upon himself without let up. Been in control.

Jake's thoughts were the hardest. Hank wanted out, wanted to rule his own destiny, but for Jake the isolation was much more traumatic. He needed to get back to his barbers shop. There was one specific thing that he needed… Whisky. Well not just whisky, anything alcoholic would suffice, anything. He even found his gaze drawn with increasing rapidity again and again to Dr. Mike's medical cabinet. Surely there was something in there he could drink? Might not be as flavoursome as whisky, but his hands were beginning to shake and he twisted them together harder and harder with the building of the stress within him. Doctors used alcohol to clean, he knew that from his own medical experience. He felt a cold sweat break out upon his forehead as he thought of all that he had squirreled away over at his barbers shop, hidden in every drop down cupboard and even in crannies on the floor boarding and walls. If he could only get over there…

Loren stood back, leaning against Dr. Mike's desk; he agreed with Hank, that their going out to find Dr. Mike and Sully would only end in imminent disaster. What did they know about searching? Every time they formed a posse something went wrong. If it had not been for Matthew they would still be wandering aimlessly around Harding's mill land, dressed in their under wears and smelling like skunks. They could not even hunt for sport without one of them getting an arrow in the arm, but it was only Horace who got shot, it was always Horace who ended up doing stupid things like that! But even Loren could see it was foolish to think that in a situation of real danger that they could pull through, even when they so desperately needed too.

"So?" the Reverend asked recapturing the assembled attention. "Have we reached a unanimous decision?"

Whilst Jake's forehead creased as his unfocussed mind tried to remember what unanimous meant, one of those words Dr. Mike always used, it was Matthew the most unlikely person to speak up, who finally did.

"We'll go at first light." His voice was filled with a strength and determination he had never heard before. One that certainly did not belie the great fears he felt. He knew that now the time had come. It was time to step forward and make the much needed decisions if no one else would.

The room was instantly filled with protests once again. This time protests about the suitability of Matthew attending them on such a search.

Dorothy suggesting that he stay with them and the children and Ingrid, that they needed him. Whilst the men worried that without him they would be instantly lost in the white wilderness that surrounded them and blurred everything into obscurity. Not one of them were 'man' enough to speak up about that of course, they did not want to loose the respect of the room, but all knew that Matthew had more survival smarts about him than any of them.

"Then we go at first light." Robert E. confirmed.

Hank nodded first, followed by Jake, the Reverend, and after a heavy sigh that clearly meant that he was only agreeing because he felt he could not say no, Loren nodded too.

"Good," said Mr. Johnson as he turned towards Horace. " Would you stay here Sir? Look after the womenfolk?"

Horace, who always liked to help, but worried that he was always hurt when he volunteered for such missions, felt a flood of relief that showed on his face.

Horace stood taller and smiled at the room, glad to be given responsibility and at the same time relieved to be excused from the journey.

"What about you son?" he asked Matthew.

"Yes." Matthew announced. Ignoring the response of the others.

"Good." Mr Johnson said, slapping Matthew's arm.

"We should sleep then?" Myra suggested, her meek voice quieter than usual. "There are beds upstairs, cots and bedding in the closet." She still worried, even if the problems of a plan of action had been resolved. Still worried about the possible outcomes of tomorrows search for all involved.

"Yes," agreed Dorothy, looking to Grace as the women rushed to work.

The group dispersed to make arrangements. The women lifting down the bed sheets whilst the men assembled the stored cots and stood back to wait. All motions were done under the eerie silence of thinking. Preparing their minds for the hours ahead.

When each settled down, and the children were checked on and the lights were dimmed, each lay on their makeshift beds waiting. Waiting for the dawn.

_0000000000_

Across the white wilderness of Colorado Springs, the dawn had now broken. The entire interior of their little haven was glowing with reflected light as Sully realised that he had been planning to get up and check the outside for a long time now.

"Michaela?" He whispered gently.Unable to put the movement off any longer.

He had let her slumber much longer than he had meant too. Had closed his own eyes, drifting off himself for a while. Lounging in a half aware state, still close enough to hear the faint noises of her breathing and the outside world, but also drifting through half imagined, half dreamed creations of all kinds. Just enjoying her nearness and her embrace.

He lifted his hand and caressed her hair, still waiting for her to stir, trying to awaken her. She took another slow breath leaning into his touch. He liked this side of her. This sweet, soft, sleepy, lazy side of her.

She felt languorous like a cat; enjoying the soft touches he gave her. For she was awake now. She had been since he had spoken her name a few moments ago.

But she was enjoying this far too much.If she admitted that she was awake she might loose this chance.

Just being able to let him touch her like this, have him hold her, was so relaxing, so nurturing, such an emotional experience. As a doctor she knew how much touch could help to heal the wounded body. Why not the lonely mind? His soft caresses sent a message of caring through her that no other thing could. In the last few hours she had begun to realize that words describing being held could pale into insignificance when compared to the real simple act of holding another human being and being held in return.

She had to bite her lip when his fingers reached her scalp again, gently rubbing in circles as he whispered her name again. He saw the corner of her lips twitch as he moved closer.

So she was awake, well, if she wanted to play…

He leaned down, dipping his head so that he could whisper directly into her ear. His lips and breath a warm tickling as he whispered once again.

"Wake up sleepy head." His voice was deep and sounded almost liquid.

She tried to keep still, tried her hardest to quell the warm shiver that rushed down her spine from his words and his warmth.

She loved this sweet torture. Lying in his protective arms, eyes shut enclosing her into trusting darkness. Loved the playfulness in not knowing what he would do next. She firmly believed that she was fooling him into thinking she was still asleep and she loved that he was so affectionate, even if he did think she was asleep and would never know. She could only hope that one day he would do this for real, and mean it.

She hovered there waiting, working on keeping her breathing even, she had felt him withdraw since he had breathed his last words into her ear, but he was still close. She felt the air stir around her, shifting the light strands of her hair as she felt his large fingers make contact with her skin once again. So gentle for their size, with a reassuring pressure and intensity.

Lazily he stroked the tip of his finger around the delicate shell of her ear, around and around in a teasing sensation that forced her to repress sweet shivers as she stirred closer to him. Bumping noses with him she instinctively nuzzled against him, his touch so relaxing as he distracted her from her game.

She knew then that he had won.

She opened her eyes; the heavy lashes fluttering as she blinked at his nearness, all at once arrested by the way his brilliant blue eyes turned to dark and smoky as they made that first moment of connection with hers. She found herself gazing into her future. Her familiar island in this crazy storm of snow and emotions. Such life was reflected there, intensified by cheeky way that his eyes creased at the corners with his delight and glittered with his smile.

He laughed softly, teasing. "So you think you are pretty smart ha?"

Michaela just blinked at him innocently, before letting the curl of her lips admit her defeat, dissolving into their shared soft laughter.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked her, still conscious of all they had been through. Much to her delight he continued to caress the long flowing copper strands of her hair. His fingers rubbing across the ends, running tingles up the strands in a way that made her scalp come alive.

"I feel alright," she promised him, "a little tired." She admitted. She sighed softly her eyes flickering closed briefly under the ministrations of his fingers.

"What?" he asked worried by the implications of her sigh.

"No, it's nothing." She tried to slip away from his question, but when his expression turned to one of worry she knew she would have to tell him.

"It's…" she averted her gaze feeling her cheeks flush. She took a breath before continuing, "My sister, Rebecca, when we were little and I was upset about something, she always used to…" she paused again. "She used to touch my hair… like you are doing." She smiled like the child in the memory she was recalling. "Used to make me feel all better. "

Their eyes met again, hers full of the few sweet remembrances she had of her childhood and his filled with the pleasure of being able to comfort her by doing something so simple. Their gazes caught they could not break them and they stayed like that, smiling at one another happily. Her contently feeling his continued caress to her hair and he enjoying that her palm still lay flat against his bare chest monitoring his heartbeat.

The moment was only broken by a sudden soft growl. A shuddery rumble which made Michaela's hand fly to her mouth and Sully to jerk alert, ready to protect them from whatever was out there.

Through her profound embarrassment Michaela could do nothing but laugh, a laugh that got louder and louder behind her smothering hands as Sully scrambled to his knees, briefly taking in her laughter at a moment of such danger with bemusement, as he concentrated still upon scanning the cave frantically for the growling predator.

"Sully," She gasped through her laughter. "Sully!" she tried again, her tiny hand looking so small as she took hold of his shoulder to gain his attention. Her eyes sparkled with tears of laughter as she admitted, "It was my stomach, Sully. My stomach… I was waiting to eat until Cloud Dancing and Snowbird's meal…I…"

She dipped her head, looking at him for understanding. He looked at her seriously for a moment, before breathing out sharply, closing his eyes as a smile broke across his face. He could not help but laugh too, laugh at his own foolishness, how silly he must have looked leaping to her protection like that! How adorable she looked in her mortification with her flushed and embarrassed cheeks.

His expression grew a little more serious, "That's right…we ain't eaten. We need to do something bout that."

She saw his mind start to pick up and whir again as he studied the ground before him thinking. Then he turned to her.

"Well, whilst we are up!" He said, shyly holding out his palm for hers. His voice full of laughter as he tried to imitate a real Boston gentleman, and failed miserably!

But how could she resist such an offer from a man with such a smile?


	20. Chapter 20

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first nineteen chapters!! Thank you too for sticking with me despite the slow progress of my posting recently! Rianne xx

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Twenty._

It was the sweats first. Cold sweats despite the chill in the room and all the blankets. Cold sweats across his burning forehead. He kept fidgeting, unable to sleep, unable to even lie still for more than a few moments.

Across the room he could see Hank through the dim shadows. But he could not tell if his eyes were open or shut. Jake lifted his hand to the curtained window by his head, lifted the gauzy floral material away from the thin sheet of lightly rippled glass, squinting in Hank's direction again.

Horace who lay to his left let out a shuddery snorting snore, making his already frayed nerves jerk and he twisted his neck, feeling the pain tear through the muscle as it cramped making him bite back a gasp. He felt uncontrollable rage well up in his chest for the snoring man. He would not even call him an innocent. He was a snoring animal and each rasping breath he took made Jake consider doing something more and more drastic to stop it. He first imagined simply holding the fools nose until the noise stopped, although that had its drawbacks, as it would most likely awaken him. But soon his twitching, glittering eyes kept flitting back and forth, back and forth between the pillow under Horace's head and the open mouth that seemed to stretch with his imagination, drawing the blackness in with the suction of each breath and blasting it back into the room on the exhale.

Jake covered his own mouth as he snorted back his own deranged sounding laughter at the image of Horace with a mouth full of feathers that appeared in the darkness as if the fluffy white flapping appendages were already in his mouth.

"Shut up Jake." Growled Hank, his voice low, menacing and clipped.

But when Jake squinted through blurring eyes he could not see Hank's eyes open. His usual partner in crime seemed to be sleeping. He rubbed his eyes again, scrubbing away the curious images as he squirmed his shoulders in the bed.

"Jake Slicker!"

He sat bolt upright at the sound of a woman's voice. It was a voice that belonged to only one woman.

"Dr. Mike?" he asked the darkness, expecting a reply.

_0000000000_

"Ma!"

Brian's anguished cry broke the darkened silence of the children's bedroom.

Colleen was instantly by his side, or so it felt to him as he fought the cocooning itchy blankets to free his legs and arms.

"Shhhhh…." Soothed his sister, as she climbed up onto the thin cot, peering nervously through the darkness at each of Ingrid's sisters, but apart from faint stirring which soon settled they remained only lightly disturbed.

"Ma," Brian gasped, as Colleen eased his dampened hair back off his forehead and she did her best to cradle him with the same usable arm and not let him bump the heavy plastered mess that weighted the sling.

"Ma's not here Brian, she's with Sully. But I'm here." She whispered softly beginning to rock him. She shivered a little as her body got fully used to having been dragged from her restless sleep and she nudged her brother over slightly so that she could pull the blankets up around the both of them.

She could feel his heart thumping against his little bird like side, racing with fear and worry.

"It was Ma." He tried to explain, but although he could not see his sister clearly through the darkness he knew she did not fully understand him. "It was really Ma, not Dr. Mike." He whispered his voice breaking into a guilty sob. Almost afraid to whisper the words in a place that had once been their home. In fact the room the children now slept in had been the bedroom he had shared with Matthew, whilst Colleen had slept in a much smaller one down the hall, that Dr. Mike used to store supplies.

"I really miss her Colleen," he sobbed out, as he turned and carefully buried his head into her shoulder.

Colleen felt her heart throb with hurt as she listened to Brian's words and felt his shuddery sobs. He had been dreaming about their mother. It was moments like this when she was all alone surrounded by the cloaking darkness that she felt like she too could cry for her.

In the beginning they had all been so worried about hurting Dr. Mike's feelings that they had each made an unspoken agreement with themselves that they would not talk with her about how much they missed their mother. They loved Dr. Mike so very much, but even they could sometimes see the fragile look that came across her face at the thought of them leaving her. When their father had come back, she had been so overwhelmed with happiness, but she had seen that look return to Dr. Mike's eyes, the one that had been there when Olive had taken them to dinner when she had returned from Old Mexico bringing the grippe with her. So she had worked hard to be more careful, not to talk too much about Charlotte, to make sure to remind Dr. Mike as much as she could about how much they loved her.

But she too missed their mother and had thought about her a great deal today. It was no wonder that with all the other added stresses that she and Brian had withstood that he would be more susceptible to bad dreams and nightmares. When the clinic was busy and bustling with Dr. Mike's patients and daily routines it became easy to forget about the life she used to lead in this house. That she had gone from being her mothers protégée, learning all she could in the kitchen, to being Dr. Mike's and learning all she could about medicine.

She was only just beginning to realise just what a gift she had been given. Had only just been given an inkling and barely started to appreciate all she had learnt from these remarkable women. She knew one day that she would fully comprehend, and just how grateful she would be that they had instilled in her their greatest talents so that she would in turn bestow them upon the future.

She could feel her brother beginning to calm, feel his heart rate slow.

"Colleen?" His voice was so small. "Colleen, I'm thirsty."

He sounded so tired and so helpless that she found she could not refuse him this simple wish.

So with one last squeeze of his skinny shoulders, she slipped from the bed, her eyes carefully planning her route through the bedroom guided by the brighter than usual moonlight, the faint beams bounding back from the white canvas filled the room with a gentle glow. She tiptoed her way across to the door, shivering with the rooms underlying chill, opening the bedroom door with extreme caution before slipping out into the corridor beyond.

_0000000000_

"Dr. Mike?" Jake enquired again into the darkness.

He scrubbed a hand over his blurry vision, his eyes jerking nervously all over the room, darting in the darkness.

"I can hear you."

His voice had begun to border upon crazed, it crackled and rushed from his mind with little thought to reality. The early stages of delirium tremors felt quite similar to being mildly intoxicated and to all intense and purpose, and more importantly to his mind, he felt completely fine. It was just the rest of the world that had begun to tilt upon its precarious axis.

_0000000000_

Light footsteps outside in the corridor brought Matthew alert, followed by what looked like the blur of a white and cream ghost, Colleen, slipping past the recovery room on her way down the stairs.

He was awake because had felt restless for quite a while, anxious to head out, counting the minutes until he could set off to search. For he could not help but think that the longer they waited the more that could befall Sully and Dr. Mike.

He wondered what Colleen could be doing up at this hour. He looked to Ingrid as he considered following his sister for a moment. Then he reconsidered as he feared he might scare her and recognising that she was indeed awake and not sleep walking he left her to wander. She was probably simply thirsty. If she were longer than a few more minutes down there he would go down and check up on her he decided, hearing her soft footsteps recede into the downstairs of the building.

And then she screamed!

Her pained voice shattering the sleepy silence as everyone leapt from their beds in alarm.

_0000000000_

Oh why had he done that? He thought as Michaela took his proffered hand and he helped her into a sitting position before looking away from her, pretending to be searching out the correct items of clothing from the crumpled remains of their nest.

He had embarrassed himself with his reaction to her hungry stomach and not only had he of course embarrassed her more, he had also then tried to cover it by acting 'all proper'. He had seen in her eyes the curious look behind the laughter. The look that clearly stated that he had failed miserably in his imitation, but how was he to know how a real gentleman behaved? Apart from the odd gentleman of leisure who had passed through Colorado Springs on an adventure, the last time Sully had been in the presence of a real gentleman had been back in New York City and he had been just a boy.

He damned his mind for not working quickly enough. Could he not have thought of some other way to distract her from her embarrassment, which he felt oddly responsible for, than by not only showing his flaws in upbringing, but by actually flaunting them?

Yet Michaela had never seemed to care that he was no gentleman by the city or social standards, but then he worked hard to remember his manners in her presence. Had even started to smarten up his appearance before going to meals with her and the children. He had caught himself on several occasions in the last few weeks, running his fingers through his hair and straightening his shirt as he walked the last few steps up to the welcoming homestead.

He never thought that the tiny little building would ever have grown to feel welcome to him again. Until the night he brought Black Kettle there with an army bullet in his neck he had not set foot under its roof since the day Abagail had died. Yet Michaela had made it a proper home for her and the children. Filled its wooden heart with love and nurtured new shoots of fragile green life. The spring blooms entwining themselves around the furniture and the fashionings, feminine and soft to the touch.

Just like her…

Sully's forehead was furrowed as he thought, the depth of his introspections creasing his skin, and it was that which finally made her truly aware of the situation she was now in. The chilly air had replaced his distracting touch and warm embraces and was sinking into her skin and reawakening her mind.

She worried about what he was thinking about. Worried about those creases across his forehead. What did they mean? They only intensified the tension in the air which grew heavier as if weighted by the cold, as mirroring creases broke out across her own forehead.

She was remembering more clearly what had passed between them in the dark hours. Without the gentle relaxing motions of sleep and warmth, which had allowed her to openly express her deepest desires, she was now awakening to the reality of her actions.

She had enjoyed the events of the night, much more than she should have.

How inappropriate their actions had been, how intimate.

As she sat there surrounded by their tangled clothing, following his movements with her eyes, she could not get away from the way her heart began to pound, thudding in her chest. Her breath began to shudder out of her, as she had to fight back her inner consciousness. As the propriety-loving demon, who occupied her mind and spoke in the reserved and dulcet sharpness of her Mothers tone, began to jitter.

Her eyes lingered without her permission upon the strength of his upper arms, the breadth of his shoulders, the curl of his hair as it framed his face. It seemed as if her gaze was unstoppable. She dragged her eyes away ashamed by her uncontrollable interest.

She began to panic, to look around her and see just how their situation would look to outside eyes. Sully naked to the waist, her in her underclothes, entangled together in the dark seclusion, their clothes strewn and flung across the room like those who engaged in abandoned passion.

But would they be right?

In a way those judgemental outside eyes would see the partial truth. They had engaged in passion…

Her heart thumped harder. She could feel his hands again; even feel the way her body reacted, the way her body surged at just the thought.

Could she be classed as completely innocent any longer? Her virtue remained intact that much was true, but her body and mind now had a much clearer idea of what she had been missing all this time. And it wanted, it longed to experience so much more of it.

The memories felt wonderful in her mind. Had felt even more wonderful to actually experience, and yet had she heard of this happening to any other young woman she would have automatically assumed. A woman out alone with a man, she would have immediately assumed that the woman had given up her virtue.

Had she given herself up to him? Willingly?

Yes… her mind reminded her echoingly.

It was in that moment of complete terror at the conflict between her mind and her body that Sully turned to her with perfect timing, a smile on his face as he held out her undershirt. He had been holding it close to the fire to warm the material.

And with that one gesture she was reminded that it did not matter.

He did not know. He did not have to know.

She and Sully, nothing had happened between them openly. At least he had not acted like he knew what happened whilst he slept.

He was troubled yes, but she did not think it was about that; and Sully did not strike her as the kind of man who ran from such encounters.

But she knew one thing, which was that even if Sully had known, or ever found out, he would never judge her. Never. She knew that. And so she was merely foolish to worry. They were alone; there was no point in worrying what others thought, no one had seen them. And no one would, so she needed to calm down and breathe…

It was her secret. Her delicious secret.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment as she felt her normality return.

And yet as the minutes passed on she began to recognise that their unconscious actions seemed to have created between them a new connection. That their closeness was intensified in a way which created a pleasant feeling in her belly. Sully seemed to be pleased by their new level of intimacy, seemed calm and unquestioning, so why was she so riled?

Because it was always the woman who was branded. What did Sully have to worry about? Why would he be ashamed in a situation like this? Male sexuality was praised. A woman's was scorned, and that was just the way society was…

"Here…" he nudged, focusing her attention onto him once again, her eyes flicking up from the innocent white of the shirt and up to the warmth of his smiling blue.

So she took the garment from him with a nod of her head. "Thank you."

Her voice was quiet and he could not miss the vulnerability in her expression and wonder at her thoughts.

"'M just gonna go check…" he nodded towards the entrance of the cave as he spoke. " see 'bout the snow…see if its stopped." He stuttered, hearing his own stupid voice echo and cringing at the way it sounded.

But her eyes told him that she too had suddenly felt the tensions of reality return to invade their once sleepy, comfortable enclosure, and in that moment, in hearing him speak in a regular voice, both had recognised that the cold light of day hid nothing.

She nodded in understanding of so many things, before moving so that she could slide her arms into the undershirt, feeling the last vestiges of the fires warmth still clinging to the fibres.

"This is er… this is dry too." He said, passing her the outer blouse she had been wearing, hearing his consciousness at the renewed awkward feelings creeping into his vocal inflections. "Here," he held the blouse open for her.

Her different coloured gaze lifted to his once again, with a look not unlike the one she had given him all those months ago as he had helped her button a similar blouse by the banks of Willow Creek. Uncertainty, curiosity, all mixed in with a faint flicker of fear.

He forced the corner of his mouth up in his best imitation of a smile as he waved the material slightly and she jerked a little, the motion distracting her gaze as she turned her back to him, lifting her right elbow to allow him to guide her arm into the sleeve.

He was not sure now why he had offered, he had thought a kind gesture might have warmed the air between them again, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect, causing her to re-erect the boundaries between them. Causing her to feel nervous, reminding her that this kind of intimacy between men and women without marriage was considered wrong and somewhat immoral… and to make her feel this way was the last thing he wanted. He longed to keep a tight hold on their newly discovered, albeit fragile closeness, but he already felt it slipping through his fingertips.

"There," he whispered, as if to a child as he lifted the collar into place around her neck, scooping the blanketing hair into one hand to lift it away so she could begin to button up.

And then he saw it.

A marring on the soft skin at the side of her neck. The delicate curving surface rubbed red.

It had been the cold from the storm, a place she had been bruised by the crushing cold of the icy water or her falls… He tried desperately to think of the possible excuses.

It was not… not…?

A mark on her neck, which would have been protected by the bundling layers of her shawl and her coat… He tried to consider all the options…

And yet he could think of a much more likely culprit…

He had not… had he?

Had his own mouth made that mark? Had his own stubble scratched at the tender flesh? For it was just where he had laid his lips, laid his heated mouth, in the dream…

He had not realised that he had frozen at the sight, frozen as the wheels in his mind fought to turn his questions into cognitive answers. Had he done that to her? Had his dream been real? His tired mind began to overload and as she tilted her head to see what had halted his motions, he bolted into action.

"I'll…" he stuttered even more now, moving away from her, nodding towards the exit, as he watched the look that crossed her face. It was one of determination to keep her emotions reigned tightly in and one she tried to hide, by tilting her head so she had a little privacy. It was a look that told him it was time for him to dress too. Time to give her a little space. Time to give himself some space.

Privacy! Space! That sounded to so ludicrous now after all they had been through together, and yet at the same time it sounded like a confusion free heaven.

That look in his eyes. For a frozen moment she had been sure that he knew.

With a flickering peep in his direction in which she was given a fleeting glance of him dragging his shirt down over his naked chest in a way that made her draw breath, she reverted her gaze, reached a nervous finger to her collar, tugging it closed. Feeling exposed and far too vulnerable.

And then she too froze. Her neck. That was what he had been looking at.

She ran an exploratory finger across the skin.

His mouth, his beard, what if they had reddened her skin?

Oh my goodness.

Was that what he had seen which had caused him to spook so?

Did he know? Had he realised? Was he angry? Was he ashamed of them, of what they had done?

She concentrated on the slow progress of her fingers as her chilled digits fumbled with the tiny buttons and her mind tried to tumble through the possibilities.

She could not look at him now. Was afraid, missed his nearness and yet was so glad to be at a clearer distance.

But across the room as he dragged the still damp and sticky fabric of his buckskins with a concerted effort over his knees, he too did not dare to look in her direction.

He was almost sure now. It had been too real to be a dream, and here was the proof.

Oh what had he done to her?


	21. Chapter 21

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ Hello everyone! I would just like to say THANK YOU so much to everyone who has been in contact with me to review and encourage me to write more of this story. I am so sorry it has taken me so long to get writing again. I would like to thank Amy especially as not a week has gone by when this story and my writing another chapter has not been mentioned! Thank you for your support Amy. I realise this might not be the earth shattering / high action chapter you dreamed of – but this one is for you!

Rianne xXx

**Frozen Fires.**

By Rianne.

_Chapter Twenty-One._

Hank was the first on his feet, the small blanket cloaking and tangling around his long legs in his confusion and haste.

That scream!

One of his girls was in trouble!

He had tumbled from the bed so quickly, braced and ready for a brutal fight that he had forgotten that he was not at his Saloon. Had long forgotten that screams in the night were not a normality for most.

He heard it again, a faint whimper which just registered on his hearing, yet it was so quiet he disregarded it, thinking it came from the petite blond girl of his that he had been inclined to fall asleep upon these last few nights. Thinking he must have crushed or disturbed her in his scramble from the bed.

His eyes strained in the dim light to orientate him to his surroundings as he realised in that split second that the smell was wrong, that this place smelt… clean. To recognise that he was not in his worn, dishevelled Saloon room, and that he had for the first time in months slept without the company of a woman.

He was in the clinic.

Before he could think more he heard the soft cry again, louder this time, and then there came another scream.

He tore the loose strands of his matted hair from his face as he kicked the tangle of fabric from his boots. Charging blindly, his eyes still unaccustomed to the dark he forged in the direction of the sound towards what he thought was the doorway.

Only to crash, thumping with winding force into Horace's weaker chest, knocking both heavily into the wall as they fell to the floor in a scrambling heap.

Not even the sound of the two grown men almost shattering the wall broke through to Jake.

Not even the thunder of boots pounding down the worn wooden stairs, bouncing the boards with heavy zombie feet as the owners stumbled with heads half caught in dreamers sleep and their eyes eerily lost as they had been ripped violently into the real, broke through his delusions.

It was Matthew who came through first.

He had still been awake, keeping his promised eye on Ingrid as the sound of his sister's scream had shattered the snowy air. He had known instantly that the cry of fear had come from Colleen.

He had sensed that trouble was about to happen. He had worried about her wandering the Clinic alone in the dark.

What had happened? Had she fallen, stumbled over something cloaked in the darkness? What if a wanderer had broken into the Clinic looking for shelter from the storm? What if it was a looter, taking advantage of the storm to steal powerful medicines from Dr. Mike's Clinic?

He should he have prevented this. He who had been awake and accustomed to the dark. He who had sensed the danger. Why had he not stopped her in the hall? Why had he not gone down there for her? Protected her?

He reached carefully for the ceramic figurine that decorated the sideboard, curling his clammy fingers around the smooth chill of the porcelain. It weighted his palm, yet it would be no weapon against an outlaw with a gun.

Matthew navigated through the corridors with ease and stealth. Instinctively mimicking the way in which Sully stalked a prey, his mind having absorbed much more knowledge from his father figure than he gave himself credit for. For his mind was occupied with the terrible conjurings of his imagination and the thumping echo of his racing heart.

The examination room was eerily illuminated with the faintest glow creeping through the feminine curtains and the scene that greeted Matthew as he peered cautiously around the doorway gave him chills.

He could just make out the male figure pacing frantically, up and down, up and down, on the far side of the room. The examination table between him and the doorway. He paced, his thin hands entwining and twisting in a grimace of pain. His back hunched slightly and his crazed head darting from side to side as his mind conversed with the unseen.

Of all the terrible imaginings, he had never considered that the danger might come from one of their own.

The pacing man was Jake.

It took Matthew much longer to locate Colleen. His eyes missed her upon his first sweep of the room. Then found her, curled and trembling against the far wall, her face turned away from the sight of Jake as he paced. Her cream rosebud embossed dress and golden hair fading her into the wooden background. As he watched another set of trembles rumbled through her as if she felt Jake's sudden approach.

"Where is it?" Cried the crazed barber. "You know!"

Colleen whimpered lightly unable to prevent it, curling up even more, tucking her knees up under her chin.

Behind Matthew the others had quickly gathered. Slowly inching their way towards the doorway for a better view. All aware of the need for quiet and the tension in the air. Each assessed the situation in their own way, following the confusing pathways of their own progressions. Each came to a shuddering halt at the same conclusion.

Alcohol. Jake was drying out. He did not just want alcohol. He needed it.

Each of Jake's breaths was heavy and laboured, his mind and body straining under the pangs of the withdrawal.

Out in the hallway the gathered held their breath, faintly snatching air as silently as they could, afraid that even their racing heartbeats might catch Jake's attention.

"You aint bein' a very good Doctor here, Dr. Mike." Jake continued, his voice surreptitious, lower and bubbling over with sarcasm and underscored with a knifed edge of warning.

Dr. Mike? The adults all exchanged a look. The fear flashing in the whites of their eyes through the cloaking darkness.

As Jake took another step towards Colleen, Matthew felt his spine stiffen. Watching as she began to quiver again, cradling her broken arm with her body and keeping her face hidden from the feral spittle flying from Jake's lips as he continued to taunt and be taunted by his demons.

"I know it's here!" Jake's voice was eerie, wrong in the darkness. Much louder than before.

He moved away from Colleen, turning his back to the doorway and the unseen faces that crowded there as they laid in wait for their opportunity. Jake crossed the floor on jerky legs, reached the armoire, throwing open the doors in such an uncoordinated fashion as to rock the cabinet on its unsteady legs.

In the next moment Jake began clawing the bottles and pastes and papers from the cupboard, never flinching as the tiny bottles and vials crashed to the floor and shattered with beautiful precision.

Recognising Jake's complete distraction Matthew turned his head, his eyes meeting those of the Reverend in the darkness. With one look, which passed at lightening speed between the pair, both moved forward. In a single fluid motion they grasped hold of the deranged Jake. Their arms encircling his chest from behind as a breathless but nearly recovered Hank stepped in to attempt to secure his legs and feet.

A thump resounded through the air as the four men hit the wooden floorboards. The motion creating a bounce that brought up a heavy cloud of medicinal dust from Jake's destruction that hid them momentarily from the rest. The resonating force of the impact causing one of Dr. Mike's anatomy pictures to crash with them to the ground in a shatter of glass.

The sharpness of that final sound caused Jake to howl like a beast as he surged up wrestling violently away from his sudden containment as if he had somehow harnessed the power of some feral creature.

0000000000

Bursting into the fresh, chill air of the outside felt to Sully like he had escaped.

Escaped from the pressure of finding himself in a reality that seemed too good to be true, something that taunted not only his mind but also his heart. Something that could tear its fragile beating into shreds if he took a single wrong step. Something so precarious it was almost tangible. He could taste the sweetness of his future.

Yet had he already ruined this? Had he really touched her in such a way? Had he so unconsciously abused his position of trust? Had he been betrayed by the instincts of his own body?

Yet here he was placing the wrong doing upon his instincts, his unconscious, but was he truly blameless? After all, his body had only spoken to hers in his slumber in a way in which he had longed to alert.

He blinked rapidly against the glare of the white expanse before him.

Be rational he told himself. Think. How had she been when they had first opened their eyes? He had to think hard to recall, recognising that the heady images of his dream, 'or was it a dream' his mind prompted echoingly, and her wonderful proximity had distracted him.

He could not remember her being embarrassed and she had certainly not been afraid of him. She had in fact seemed quiet the opposite. She had been curled to him, comfortable, sweet, lazy, 'sensual' his mind prompted again. His eyes slipped closed for a moment as he recalled the way he had felt at the simple act of awakening with her in his arms. He had never felt so happy.

She had not created a divide physically or emotionally between him until he had frozen a few moments ago. He scrubbed his fingers over his face. Had he really ruined this precious intimacy between them with his reaction upon discovering the markings on her delicate skin?

Yet one image kept flashing back to him. Bothering at him. The look in her eyes when he had discovered the abrasion on her neck. It was a look of fear, the look that flickers in the eyes of a deer as he aimed his bow. A look that spoke volumes. A look that told him that she knew, knew more than he did even about the events of the past night, and had suddenly been caught out for possession of such precious information.

What to do now? How to approach her? For he certainly had no practice in such matters.

Did he force a situation wherein they could talk it out? Did he pretend like nothing happened? Did he try to touch her with as much love, albeit a little less intimacy, and see how she reacted? Touch her cheek, her arm… her lips?

Was this even what he wanted?

He scrubbed his eyes again, as if that would help to clear his head.

He had found himself once again in a situation weighted with such emotion. Just the kind of situation he took such great pains to avoid even when his heart, body and very soul cried out for that feeling of intimacy with another. With her.

To live, to survive; meant to be alone, to be strong, to try not to love, try not to make attachments. For he had learnt this the hard way. He could not love and loose again.

If Michaela had her barriers of propriety, of class, of naivety, of strength. So Sully had his own barriers, erected to keep out all those who could cause him pain. To prevent anyone with real potential from getting too close to him.

Yet he wanted it so badly.

If only they could be brave enough, if only she could trust him just enough to allow herself to drop the walls protecting her soul, for a few moments at a time, just for him. If only he were brave enough to do the same, until there remained no barricades between them?

When he thought about it, it seemed like she already had a head start in stealthily entangling herself in his life of late. How she had done it he knew not. Yet brick by brick, before he had noticed, she had begun to dismantle his fortress, had slipped serenely into her position as best friend, then…then what…?

In this moment of complete solitude, after the sweet torture of such close quarters through the night, Sully walked a few more paces and then fell to his knees in the snow, now a few foot from the entrance to the cave. A silent grimace of confusion escaped, as he threw his pain outwards, easing the weight in his mind as he allowed the vast tundra of white to encourage him to vent his true fears.

He ran his fingers through the tangles of his hair, drawing it back away from his face, as his gaze drifted out over the miles and miles of pure white that spread out in a circumference from his current position.

His surroundings were strangely calming. Soothing white and sedating grey.

He waited there panting, letting his breath catch up with him.

The snowfall had finally ceased. The sky still hung low, but the cloud had taken on a softer, lighter colour and consistency, no more snow would fall for now.

Yet which way was home?

He paused as a smile broke. When had Colorado Springs become home to him?

When she came, his mind reminded him.

0000000000

Left in the silence, in the shivering and eerily comforting darkness, Michaela had finally found her moment to breathe. The tension that had mounted to excruciating levels over the last few minutes had released her when Sully had slipped away outside. Had left her jelly like a rag doll. It was to be a temporary release that was for certain and yet one both frantically needed.

As soon as she was sure he was a safe distance away she fell back into the remaining jumbled collection of her clothing, without even finishing the process of fastening the rest of the buttons on her blouse. With an almost hysterical squeal to vent some of her frustration she covered her face with her hands. The overwhelming sense of desperation which had risen inside at the awkward tension developing between them making her squirm and wish that the ground beneath her would swallow her up and set her free.

He knew now, she was sure of that. She could not be sure that he knew the full story, or indeed to what extent he had been aware. But he knew. The immediate change in his demeanour and his instant refusal to look her in the eye or even look in her direction!

The knowledge. It had hung there, heavy in the air. There was no getting away from it. No relaxing, or forgetting. Should she not feel some relief that at last some emotional honesty existed between them? That the words their minds had wished to impart for months and months and had yet had held back, frozen by fear, had finally been given a voice by the physical fires, which burned deep and secret inside them.

But she felt no relief, and was disappointed.

Instead she felt… she felt loss. Felt the moment to speak about it, that liminal moment of truth, that crossroads where her life could have changed forever, had slipped away from them. Had they missed another perfect chance?

The way his fingers had trembled when he had hurriedly dressed himself. Her averted gaze remaining averted only half of the time it should have been. She had been unable to take her eyes from him. She had suddenly been fascinated by the way his body closed off to her in a direct correlation to his mind. It was a sight she had witnessed before, but this time it had stung a little. This time it was more than a disagreement about her washing with her 'fancy soaps', this time there was so much more hanging in the balance. This time it felt like it was her affections that he shunned.

Maybe she was lucky that he had turned away, and therefore could not see the look that graced her features, seen the heartbreaking expression of deep and vulnerable longing. Seen the way she could not hide the ache that swelled as she realised that she had missed her moment. That he was slipping away from her again.

He had not seen the waves of defiance, of indignation and pride, which flooded after. Caused her to rise up and pretend that nothing was wrong, that she did not care. Putting on pretence. Trying desperately to lie to even herself. To keep up that front which eluded strength. Always unable to be honest about her feelings when in the pressuring shadow of humiliation and fear. Always unable to stop herself from retreating, from adding lofty graces to elevate herself above, acting aloof and even cold, whilst her fragile aching heart slowly shattered and the flame of her hope dimmed just a little more. It was a sadness born of past events that caused her to erect these barriers of protection for her vulnerable heart.

The fear of taking that chance.

Afraid of the importance of her emotions.

Afraid to be left there, standing.

She signed into her palms feeling the warmth of her breath create a film of moisture upon the cool skin.

This must have been what it was like to be Marjorie! The thought struck her suddenly with a laugh rising hysterically, surprisingly, up from her belly. All those times she had frowned and shook her head sternly at the entangled messes her sister had found herself embroiled in when she had begun to court, and yet she had often found herself leaning against doors for the snatches of conversations caught. Listening with concentration to distinguish words through oak as Marjorie calm as a frozen pond turned away admirers, and oh how she had blushed when she once clumsily walked in on her sister kissing, and at the same moment secretly wished with all her being that her own life were that exciting.

Be careful what you wish for!

She had been so envious and yet now she realised that emotions and love were all just simple names for so many confusions.

There was a faint noise from beyond the entrance to the cave. Her eyes darted towards the sound.

Sully!

He was probably on his way back inside.

Her mind instantly active forced her fingers back to work on her clothing. Something tangible and physical she could work with. One of very few problems she currently possessed that she could easily fix.

One button at a time.


	22. Chapter 22

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ Hello everyone! I would just like to say THANK YOU so much to everyone who has been in contact with me to review and encourage me to write more of this story. Your words mean more to me than chocolate!! Rianne xXx

Frozen Fires

By Rianne

_Chapter Twenty-Two._

The sound that filled the stony air of the clinic was sharp and animal and pain. It bore right to the soul with its wail of anguish. It slackened the grip of the four men restraining Jake for just a second, yet it was enough. Enough for Jake to completely overpower them, wrenching free, barely feeling them fall away like paper dolls, as he focused only on the deep throb in his chest and the escape which rang so true in his cluttered mind.

He barely felt the arms that reached out to restrain his legs, moving through their attempted grasps like a fish through water. His would-be restrainers too tangled around themselves to do much more than struggle desperately in his direction.

So focused was Jake that the room to him fell silent. Yet Loren, Dorothy, Horace and Myra watched helpless with masks of horror, each blinking slowly as if in a nightmare, unable to believe they were witnessing these events as they unfolded. The Reverend, Hank, Matthew and Robert E continued in their desperate plight to re-pin Jake to the floor. The men all gleaming now with a sheen dusting of medicinal powders making their figures look ghost-like and ethereal in the pale light.

The ache of that cry still echoed, still filled each chest with fear and struck pain in their hearts.

_0000000000_

Upstairs in the darkened bedroom Brian had heard Colleen's first scream, heard the footsteps clatter in her direction, had heard the man's cry louder and angrier than his sisters and had dived under the bedcovers shivering violently with fear. What had he done! He had sent his poor sister down there, into… into what?

For a few minutes he could do nothing but huddle frozen by the fear as guilt ate viciously at his poor heart. He knew that the others were with Colleen, yet it did not seem enough. He had to go and be brave and help his sister.

After the second cry and that heavy thump and the shattering of glass there had been silence, or so it sounded over the beat of his heart as it drummed in his ears in the enclosed cavern of his bedcovers.

Lifting the corner carefully he peered out. The room was dark and still. Across the room he could see Ingrid's sisters cuddling together in fear and for warmth. Their eyes sparkling in the darkness. They were awake, but just as scared as he was.

He was the man. He had to be brave like Sully and Matthew.

He pushed back the covers and with his head low he moved with trepidation across the room. He paused by Ingrid's sisters where they curled together in the bed to smile at them with a reassurance he did not feel inside. Then he slipped out on silent feet into the corridor beyond.

Reaching the top of the staircase Brian could clearly hear the voices downstairs as he began to edge slowly down the steps. They were voices of friends, yet they sounded different. They sounded scared.

_0000000000_

They had to do something, try and talk him out of his delusions. Loren had seen this before, seen how far these episodes of Jake's could go, seen what destruction one man could cause to his life and his friends and his surroundings. What had Doctor Mike done that last time? Loren's mind was so cluttered in his frantic state. What had she done? His breathing sped up as he stared blindly at the continued struggle between Jake, and the men as they wrestled before him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to place himself back in Jake's shop all those months ago. Jake was to his right on the floor in a heap, surrounded by empty bottles, Dr. Mike had talked Sully into breaking the door, they had slapped Jake's face, then staggered with him here to the clinic. Yet it had been too late then. Jake had been out cold. Before that, what had Dr. Mike done when Jake had still been conscious? She had spoken to him. Tried to talk him down, tried to reason with him. He could not remember it working too well, yet if that was what the Doctor had done.

So he shouted out, his voice barely heard above the scramble and commotion on the floor before him.

"Jake! What you doin'? Their 'aint no liquor here! You 'gots to calm down!"

Grace reacted immediately in kind, shouting out, letting Jake hear their voices, their confusion, trying to talk him back to some sanity and the others followed in chorus. Tried to show him their understanding, their faith in him, their love.

Yet their words went unheard, their forced calm and sympathetic tones and eager suggestions rolled off Jake like the droning humming melodious symphony of his hallucinations. To Jake they were not really there. There was only one reality. His barber's shop, with his liquor supply and the only challenge, the only real force that could stop him reaching that reality, was the snow filled space between himself and his shop and the old wooden door of the clinic, which held him back.

Dorothy, knowing that for the time being the men had Jake distracted, began to edge her way slowly into the room, keeping her back pressed firmly to the wall, slowly, slowly, one sideways step and then a pause, her attention never leaving Jake. Whilst her peripheral vision worked double time, guiding her along the wall to the spot where little Colleen still trembled in a ball of her own rosebud skirts.

She bent low, levelling herself with the girl, her eyes still tracking the scramble for power which continued throughout the chorus of shouts which were aimed to capture Jake's attention and yet were falling like dead ducks into the water of hallucination which pooled around Jake's reality.

With cautious fingers Dorothy reached out to claim Colleen's shoulders. The little girl yelped, a jolt of renewed fear shooting through her, having not heard Dorothy's approach. It took a moment to calm her and caresses to her shoulders and hair, drawing the little girl out of her cocoon to see that Dorothy was making signs to her with her eyes. She was encouraging her to stand, to stay close and to follow Dorothy's movements towards the doorway and the relative safety of the others in the hallway.

Yet that was Dorothy's failing. In the few seconds in which she communicated with Colleen she had taken her attention from Jake and as if the devil himself had been smiling down at the opportunity Jake had taken that moment to refocus his surroundings and turn towards the pair as they curled and crouched by the floorboards.

His sudden change of focus threw the men for a loop, sent them spiralling back down against one another as Jake easily shook them free and began to advance once again to where he had left Colleen some minutes ago.

"Dr. Mike!" his visions seemed to be returning, yet this time he directed them at Dorothy not Colleen. "Dr. Mike," Jake's voice had taken on the wheedling sweetness of a young boy who wants something they know you have. "Won't you let Jakey have some of your whisky?"

Dorothy took a deep breath, which seemed to be stolen from the lungs of the others as they breathed out in horror knowing they could do no more than watch in nervous trepidation. After an agonized pause Dorothy brought herself to her full height, drawing herself up to nearly level with Jake. Face to face they stood, like cowboys sizing up their opponent in a pistol duel. The air seemed to freeze black as no one dared to breathe.

The floorboard creaked sending chills up the spine as Jake took another unbalanced swaggering step forwards. Colleen flinched biting her lip to stop the noise of fear she felt shoot forth unstoppably. Dorothy aimed her gaze at the window across the room from her, watching the sky above the clinic lighten with the coming day as Jake continued.

"You know Dr. Mike," Jake moved even closer as he spoke, his voice taking on a new tone that made Myra's stomach twist. It was the tone he used with the girls at Hank's Saloon, "You're awful pretty." He breathed his words slurred and long, reaching out as Dorothy tensed to fight the shudder of repulsion that rippled her spine. "I always thought you were pretty, but here in this light, you just look so pretty," His fingers came to rest against Dorothy's hair.

In this hallway Loren's fingers curled tight into fists, his stature growing rigid as his eyes darkened with anger.

"I mean, I know you likes this Sully fella," Jake continued. Leaning his elbow by her shoulder against the wall behind her, as if sharing a friendly confidence. "I know, I can see it in your eyes, everyone can. But what's he got that I don't? I gots me a nice house, and a shop and what's he got? A cave in the woods and a few skins?!" He laughed at his own imagined prowess. "He aint got nothing to offer you. Pretty lady like you deserves to be treated right, taken to fancy dinners and parties." Jake's fingers now trailed their way down Dorothy's cheek. In his mind the caress was one of gentle affection, yet in reality it was a sloppy paw from the hand of a man who may as well have been intoxicated.

Shrouded in darkness Loren's anger grew. His breath started to force out of his nose like a steaming bull as he tried to contain and control his feelings.

"How abouts we go over to the Saloon, have a nice glass of whisky together? Or maybe you have some here, and we could have a nice quiet little drink here?" Jake pawed her face again, leaning even closer as he aimed a kiss at her cheek.

Dorothy saw the kiss coming, as if he moved in slow motion, and she was easily able to turn her face away so his lips met only air, yet it seemed Jake did not notice that he missed his target.

Thinking quickly Dorothy tried to piece together a distraction. Yet the closer Jake got the more unnerved she felt, the more she felt the eyes from the hallway on her, felt the pressure build. Over Jake's shoulder she could see that Hank was already back on his feet and sizing up the best way to re-corner Jake and Matthew too was slowly straightening up.

The last time she had stood up to a man in a situation like this it had been her husband Marcus. She had hit out at him with a skillet, hit out at him like he swung towards her so many times. She had meant only to stun him, to give herself time to escape, to gather her things and run. She had not meant for him to die. Or for the trial and her imprisonment which had followed. She would never forget the sense of relief she experienced when Dr. Mike had proved that she had not killed her husband that he had died from bleeding ulcers. Yet she had wondered, had doubted herself, had sat for hours in that tiny jail cell and been plagued by her own demons. What if something like that was to happen here? Jake was a good man; she knew he was, just like her Marcus had once been. It was just the demon drink, that evil amber liquid of the devil.

Then she felt it, felt Colleen's small cool fingers slide into her right hand, and she knew she had to come through. This poor young girl had already been through so much in the last two days, and yet here she was with such a huge heart that she thought only of Dorothy and her obvious fears in this tense situation. Brave just like her Ma and she drew from Colleen's strength.

She took a single step forward, towards the tense and jerky figure of Jake. With her hand still firmly entwined with Colleen's she gave the girl a signal, a faint tug, then guided her hand behind her back, motioning for Colleen to move herself in that direction, waving their joined hands towards the door to imitate her sliding carefully in that direction. Colleen understood and slowly gathering herself began to move, slow and gentle in her motions. Easing herself behind Dorothy's body for protection, whilst Dorothy stared straight forward into the grimacing mask of Jake's face, a false smile plastered firmly across her face. Stared into the madness in his eyes and tried to blink only sparingly, only to shake the way that the dim light caused her mind to fill in some of the darkened blanks in his features. The tense situation concocting gruesome hollows and violent lines and the moonlight bouncing an evil gleam from the shine of his teeth. His face became a tableaux which shifted and swirled, and the harder she tried to fix Jake's face in her mind, the more it evaded her.

It was working, whilst Jake still beamed at her, rocking his head from side to side in an eerie fashion, his feet positioned wide apart to give him the illusion of balance, Colleen was sliding slowly behind her and Jake was blissfully unaware.

As they watched Colleen's attempted escape each person seemed to move at a slower pace than normal, as if time controlled by tension stretched out into infinity. Hearts beat slower, breath was taken in slow and deep dreaming rhythm. Somnambulists floating through their barely recognisable reality.

Dorothy felt rather than saw Colleen slip free, felt the girls fingers withdraw, the faint chill breeze of her motion, heard the surreptitious movement of soft clothing as she was swallowed up by the protectors huddled in the doorway.

As he watched from the darkness at the bottom of the stairs Brian saw Colleen delivered into the safety of Myra's arms and felt a little of his guilt fade. She was alright. She was safe. He longed to go to her, and yet that would mean moving closer to that room. To where Jake was. Yet it did not sound like the man who cut his hair, or even the man who had laughed at him for baking a pie. He did not know this Jake and he did not know what was wrong with him.

"Well Dr.Mike, what'll it be? Whisky for two?" Jake's laugh echoed like a mad man's, crackling. He leaned in to breach the final gap between them, managing to align his mouth with the exposed shell of her ear. Dorothy's shoulder rose with an instinctive cringe as Jake's warm breath made her stomach twist with nausea. Her eyes squeezed tight against the wave. The next words Jake uttered sounded so loud against the previous edgy silence. "Then after maybe I could show you just how nice I treat a lady."

"Jake!"

Loren's maddened cry and the words that followed were lost into the darkness with the growl of his sudden motion. The older man seeming to fly across the room in a violent jealousy fuelled fury. Wresting hold of Jake viciously by the shoulders he hauled the unsuspecting man backwards away from Dorothy the only way he knew how.

Both men crashed to the floor, Loren using too much force against Jake who was unprepared caused unbalance and brought them both down. Jake's side slamming into Loren's chest and knocking the wind out of him with a hollow thump. As Dorothy looked on shocked silent by Loren's outburst, a hand clasped firmly to her breast.

Jake recovered in a mere moment, dragging himself from the floor and Loren on unsteady feet. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders as if he had tripped in the street and was pretending that nothing had happened. Then he paused, for he had seen the thing he wanted. They had fallen by the heavy clinic front door. The imagined gateway to his supposed freedom.

"What were you thinkin' Old Man?" Hank growled sideways towards Loren, his tone viciously low as he reached out to grasp his arm hauling Loren to his feet, the old man panting and unable to speak. With a shake of his head he thrust him towards the doorway once more, the Saloon owners eyes flitting rapidly between Loren and Jake's weaving procession towards the door. Matthew stepped closer to Loren, taking him by the elbow, with a nod of understanding passing between the men helped Loren over to the doorway. Whilst Hank returned his full attention back to Jake, Robert E and the Reverend coming up behind him to flank him on both sides, blocking Jake into the corner of the room.

"Where you goin' Slicker?" he asked, raising his chin in question, his hands preparing to reflexively move if needs be. Knowing that he had himself tried that door earlier and that there was no way to force it open until the sun came up and started to melt some of that snow drift. "I don't like you talking to ladies like that Jake. You and me has had words before bout that aint we. You don't talk to the ladies like that, even if you is payin for them."

Hank's words didn't even cause Jake to blink an eyelid. He moved closer to the door, reaching out with a wavering hand as his vision blurred momentarily, either from his withdrawal or the recent falls no one could tell. His grasp finally came to rest upon the worn handle.

Ignored, Hank tried another trick, hoping to spur a fight from his sometimes friend, his thought being that if he could encourage Jake to tangle with him that he could subdue him in a matter of minutes no problem at all.

"She'd never want a man like you, you're a drunk." Hank stabbed the words out with a violence he found stirred in his own soul. For Hank could have been talking about Jake, or he could have been talking about himself.

"Beautiful lady like Michaela, what would she want with an old whisky souse like you? And I know how you treat my girls, and it aint what no lady deserves."

Jake faltered a moment, yet now his need for whisky had overtaken his misplaced lust for the lady doctor in his priorities.

"She's right, you know." Hank hammered onwards. Swinging out his words like blows, preparing for his battle. "Bout you and all your drinkin. Know what, I decided?" Jake turned his blurry head just slightly to the left in Hank's direction.

"I aint never gonna serve you in my bar again." Hank spat, with a cruel laughter in his voice.

"Never." He added with defiance that picked up an echo, a chorus building within Jake's hallucinogenic state of mind, as about his head there appeared faint lights dancing about the room as he blinked. And what was that, he let go of the door handle and moved towards the light he could now see through the window. He pressed his face against glass, his breath steaming the cold pane. What was that happening out there, out there across the street?

The Saloon, the swing doors were opening, the light beyond them glowing invitingly, and there in the doorway stood the prettiest saloon girl he had ever seen. Dressed in a deep red flimsy garment and holding a bottle of Hank's finest whisky. She had lovely long auburn hair, and creamy skin and eyes that sparkled to him. She was calling to him, shouting his name. She knew his name! He rubbed his eyes, and yet she was still there, she smiled, waving him over. "Look!" he cried with childish wonder. "She's gonna serve me your whisky even if you aint!" He laughed distractedly at Hank.

The Reverend and Hank exchanged a look. Was this an attempt at distraction? Following Jake's gaze across the empty white street to the Saloon, they found it darkened, the lamps long extinguished, and the Saloon doors frozen solid against another drift. There was no one out there.

"I gotta go to her," Jake babbled, as if to himself, the group in the hallway chose this moment to carefully step forward, Grace reaching out to Dorothy, reassured with a silent touch and exchanged look and nod that she was alright.

Jake's sudden jolting turn, froze everyone in their tracks momentarily, but to Jake they had all been forgotten in the pursuit of the red whisky baring siren.

"Jake," Loren growled. Everyone turning with horrified eyes in his direction, shaking their heads as violently as they could without moving too much, seeking to shush him before he did something else stupid, but Loren ignored their pleas.

Amidst the commotion no one noticed the small boy as he entered the Clinic room, his youthful eyes wide and his jaw slack with confusion.

"There aint no woman out there Jake. No woman stupid enough to be out on a night like this. There aint no woman." Loren's voice took on a warning tone, still unable to begrudge his friend his safety however badly he thought of his actions towards Dorothy Jennings.

Jake swung back towards Loren, his upper body swayed in a circular motion, brewing a chilling draft. No one dared to speak. Jake paused, rocking as he restored some semblance of balance before he took a step forwards towards Loren.

"Mr. Bray, what's wrong with Mr. Slicker?"

Brian's innocent voice jolted the room back to motion. As Matthew leapt in the direction of his little brother, swinging him high into his arms into what he hoped would be relative safety, Jake saw his moment arrive.

Spinning back around as the others rushed to protect the small boy, Jake grabbed hold of the door handle again with both hands and yanked so violently that it ripped right from its frost weakened hinges and tore open wide as a blast of raw ice wind whipped through the newly exposed wound in the Clinic's integrity.

_0000000000_

As Michaela hurriedly clambered to dress herself in the light of the dying fire, she had barely noticed the quiet slippery thump of melting snow; snow, which warmed by the newly rising temperatures of the breaking day, had slid down in one foul swoop to cover the small entrance to the cave. She had heard the faint sound, but assuming it to be Sully coming back she had not taken the time to investigate further. Trying desperately to focus on the clothing task at hand and not the thunderous welling of confusion, intensity and passion brewing in her mind. She was determined to make sure she did not betray to him the quivering nervousness she felt at his imminent return. She would be calm and composed and behave as she normally did with him back in Colorado Springs.

As each moment ticked onwards that she remained unawares the slippery wall between her and the outside world became thicker and thicker.

_0000000000_

Outside on the vast tundra of white Sully stood straining his eyes into the distance. He had spent the last few minutes trying to distinguish where the frozen river, which had caused them so many problems on their journey to the cave, now lay beneath the blanket of snow and ice. He had finally come to the decision that it spread out from between the far rise in the ground to his left to the smattering of trees to his right.

He felt pretty certain and in the process of thinking through his task he had found his inner calm once more. He felt balanced and ready and instilled with a renewed eagerness to begin their journey home once again.

Turning back towards the entrance to the cave Sully froze in confusion. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

The entrance, where was the entrance.

Fear sank through to his soul.

"Michaela!"

For the second time in two days her name echoed from his lips across the silent expanse of deadly white.

_0000000000_

Inside the darkened cave Michaela's head tilted up, she remained motionless for a moment as her ears strained. She had been sure that she had heard Sully's voice call her name, yet the sound had been so muffled as to be almost unrecognisable.

There! There it was again! It was definitely her name, definitely Sully.

Scrambling to her feet, conscious to not catch her bloomers in the flames of the fire, or that their wafting air might extinguish the precious radiance into useless tendrils of smoke, she turned in the direction of the way out of the cave.

Yet there was only blackness.

I must be disoriented she thought; rational to a fault, so she turned around to the opposite direction, yet the blackness remained.

The blackness seemed to rise around her as fear began to rise within her.

There was no way out, where was the way out?

Panic rose as she spoke to herself out loud, muttering breathlessly, in a fear filled voice she hardly recognised, as the lump in her chest moved quickly up to lodge in her throat.

She stepped forward, away from the fire to where the light from the flames lost its prowess, reached out with palms that trembled into the blackness which had seemed so cosy when she had shared it with Sully, but only came into contact with rough stone. Feeling her way along the wall she only encountered more and more of this expanse of sharp and jagged rock.

She moved around, frantic now, unable to remember which way she had first turned away from the fire. Which way the entrance had been when she had seen Sully last slip through it.

Tears welled in her eyes and the darkness filled with dancing white spots as she began to hyperventilate.

"Sully!"

Her voice ached from her chest, and reverberated back to her with all the pain of her agony and fear.

_0000000000_

With a roar so masculine it was almost feral Jake threw the broken door to the ground beside him, the Clinic a swirling mass of papers, and ice and choking medicinal powders, which filled the mouths and noises with a bad tasting fog.

The others looked on in horror and amazement as Jake threw himself forward into the mound of snow and ice, which had drifted to block the doorway. He dug in deep, the dreams of whisky and that woman the most powerful persuasion that his mind had ever come across.

Jake fought on; and his valiant attempts to claw his way out through the snowdrift to the mirage of pleasure and satisfaction were mirrored many miles away across the planes of pristine white as Sully pounded his bare fists with a violence he did not know he possessed into the wall of ice and snow he too found before him. Yet Sully's fight had way more resting upon it than the satisfaction of his whims or his heart.

This could not be happening, this could not be happening…

_0000000000_

Both men felt as if they were fighting for their life as their fingers clawed frantically at the rise of snow and ice before them. Their slippery and hindered progress as defeating as their mind was berating. The daylight turning the solid surface before them from pristine glass to unsubstantial mush beneath their touch.

Everything you touch… each man's mind warned him. Look what happens to everything you touch.

Yet there was a deeper voice, a stronger voice that seemed to win out. A voice that gave orders to concentrate upon the task. To forget the fear; forget the cold bite of the surface against the tender flesh. Forget the exhaustion; forget the welling pain of tears. Bite back the twinge of pain in your chest as you wish to be able to change events past.

Focus upon the task. Only the task.

Do not get swept away in the torrents of emotion sliding torturously towards you like the glacier slip. Forgo the plaguing, dancing displays of your previous ineptitude.

For none of that matters now.

Keep on going, keep on trying.

You'll reach the light at the end of the tunnel.


	23. Chapter 23

_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ Hello everyone! I would just like to say THANK YOU so much to everyone who has been in contact with me to review and encourage me to write more of this story. Your words mean more to me than chocolate!! Rianne xXx

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

_Chapter Twenty-Three._

She clung desperately to the wall beneath her fingers, leaning her pounding chest against it, feeling the damp and slimy stone soak a chill into her overheated skin. Around her the darkness buzzed, alive with dancing lights and vague hallucinogenic images and shapes. Each blink brought her a kaleidoscope of colours which made her sway, yet closing her eyes, opening her eyes, both views were the same and it confused her mind so that she became unsure whether she was conscious or dreaming. The wall was her only anchor. The only thing solid. She could not see it, it belonged to that deep abyss of blackness which had swallowed her and yet as her fingers sought out each sharp and vicious crag, which had scratched and torn at her frost weakened fingers, slowly it began to reassure her. Each small pain a reminder of the reality of her situation and the growing need to take some kind of action.

That tiny part of her, which always managed to remain rational, medical, sensible, was still there in the back of her mind and it was fighting for dominance over her. That part diagnosed panic, knew the symptoms, the spinning room, the sharp and painful breathing, the adrenaline heart. Knew that it was a natural response to fear and that realisation brought her mind around to hope.

She could not be trapped in here forever. It was just a small cave, just a drift of snow. It was only the idea of the dark enclosed space that frightened her. It was an irrational fear, she told herself. Yet she had to wonder if this was true. What if she could not get out, what if Sully could not get her out?

She forced herself to slow her breathing again. Nice and easy, nice and easy.

She waited, thinking, feeling her mind swim back to clarity slowly and with that calming felt her heart rate decrease and the dancing flickering colours faded out as if floating away.

The fire behind her still flickered, yet its flames had begun to dim, the fire's thirsty desire for oxygen building as the enclosure slowly began to loose some of its precious supply.

With this newfound calm returning so did some of her sanity. The cleared thought processes in her clever mind reclaiming their powerful sparking.

She had heard him; Sully's voice had travelled through to her to gain her attention in the first place. He had shouted her name; he knew that there was something wrong.

Yet she could take no relief from that knowledge. What if his cry had spilled from his lips as he had been consumed by the avalanche of snow and ice that now enclosed her? She chewed her lower lip as her mind conjured images she could not hide from by closing her eyes as the blank canvas remained for them to play out just as freely as it did when she blinked blindly into the darkness.

She turned towards the dim light of the fire, sinking to her knees against the rough and stony floor she crawled slowly, panting, towards the small source of light and heat. She looked like she was bringing her face close to the flames as if admiring their delicate beauty and wondering how something so striking could be so destructive. Yet in that moment she was forming a plan. Using the only resource at her disposal, fire.

Reaching out with two fingers she snagged the very end of one of the less burnt fragments of wood from the small pyre. Wincing gently at the nearness of the fire as it flared towards her down the wood fragment as she moved she stood slowly on unsteady feet. Precious burning fragment in hand she stepped back into the sharp black nothing holding up her meagre torch to show her the way. The wall before her revealed a blank expanse of grey stone. Turning to her right she followed the stone, left hand trailing gently over the rough cool surface, her right holding the now barely flickering fragment ahead of her.

In a matter of moments the makeshift lantern began to dim as the flame without its companions, alone, began to die. Lowering the small beacon to the floor she placed the now blackened stick on to the ground as a marker. Returning quickly to the fire she chose another small glowing stick to be her guiding light and retracing her steps returned to the last marker to continue the search.

Within minutes her fingers reached out and discovered not rock but ice, she had found it, the entrance, the snowdrift, Sully!!

Taking the deepest breath she could muster she cried his name in a voice which was torn with the ache of her returning emotion and fear.

The sound reverberating almost broke her heart as she strained to listen, frustration mounting as she heard only her own heartbeat as it strummed loud in her ears, half drowning the desperation from her cry. Reaching out her palms she placed them both against the wall of snow before her and pressed with all the strength she possessed. Forcing against the drift with her whole body, feeling herself slide down the surface as she cried out Sully's name with the force of the exertion.

Beneath her force the melting snow and ice slid did not give outwards, if anything, in a way which twisted nausea through her stomach is seemed only to slide inwards towards her.

She cried out again, the panic returning as she realised that even her best efforts were so futile as to worsen the situation.

"Sully!!!" Her voice tore from her in a long drawn out wail of pain.

Yet in response came nothing. No movement, no daylight, no Sully…

_0000000000_

It was not working fast enough. His fingers dove over and over into the sludge of moisture and gravel beneath his fingers. His breathing appeared as frantic and rasping clouds of steam blasting from between his gritted teeth. His arms ached with deep strain yet he did not even consider breaking.

"Jake…" Hank stepped closer to the frantic man, leaning into the spray of ice water that flew from his fingertips, and spoke so slowly he sounded like he was mocking, "What ya doin?"

The group had watched in curious awe the way that the manic barber had taken out his aggressions against the pile of frozen ice before him and had in the last few minutes seen his strength begin to wane.

Feeling it safe to now approach Hank had stepped in.

Yet it seemed antagonising Jake was not the best plan that any one had suggested so far that evening.

In one sweeping motion Jake swung his body around, finding the strength from some hidden recess inside he flailed wildly at Hank. With a weaving movement learnt from many years as Saloon owner and many years before that as troublesome patron, Hank deftly swerved each badly aimed blow. Like some primeval choreographed dance they circled one another.

Their faces twisted into grimaces, Hank's one of almost pleasure at the chance to square off and feel powerful, Jake's one of a feral desire to protect what was his and in his mind the inviting girl on Hank's steps was all his for the taking.

Outside in the deep shadows of the hallway Loren found himself interrogated by Dorothy and the Reverend. Desperate to know all Loren could remember from previous instances about restraining and sedating Jake. He was the only person who had been present the last time Jake had staggered through the delirium tremors, which had happened around Dr. Mike's birthday that last year, yet he struggled to think. His memory was not what it had once been and fear clouded his remembrances of that day.

He remembered Jake's animal cry all to well, remembered the terror which had crashed through him seeing his friend so out of control like that, a horror which he had wished to never experience again. Yet tonight he had seen his nightmare return as he had been forced to witness Jake's current demented storm. Yet this time it was different. This time Jake had angered him. The way Jake had treated Dorothy, the things he had said about Dr. Mike, they made Loren's blood boil. As he stood right now he was ashamed to call that man a friend. Yet as he lived and breathed he knew he would never forgive himself if he gave up on Jake Slicker.

_0000000000_

Michaela was in there and he had to get her out. He had little thought left for himself, was blind to the raw sting of his fingers and the way the ice before him began to take on a faint pink tinge as his fingers scraped ragged.

He had to keep on going, keep on digging.

Had to concentrate on the growling rasp of his breathing to keep it slow as he felt that wave rising inside of him again. His whole body felt like it pounded with the violence of his actions and beat with the flow of the adrenaline flood. It was the same painful feeling that had rapidly and completely overwhelmed him once before. Just once when he had been too broken to fight it. From the moment that Charlotte Cooper had emerged from his tiny cabin with such an expression in her eyes that he had not needed to question. He had known instantly that his wife was gone. There had been no words necessary, no words which could have done justice to the moment and the words he was sure must have followed had been lost into the weeks of silence which followed that all obliterating, all consuming wave as he had sunk into the darkness.

To love and then to loose.

It had taken him years to battle back to the surface, and for the last year he had remained there, bobbing frantically. Yet recently it had become easier and easier to stay afloat and he had come to the clear and honest realisation only in these last few hours as to why.

Michaela. It was all Michaela.

Yet she was trapped, trapped and possibly smothered by the cascade of white and that wave, it was rising again, white tipped with a crest of snow.

He knew that wave all too well and this had been the second time in recent hours that the heavy weight of his fear had caused his innards to heave upwards from the rough twisting of his stomach. That horrifying moment when he had seen Michaela crash down through the ice had frozen his heart, everything had stopped and in that instant a wave of blackness so deep it was fathomless had started to surge and then as quickly as one sensation came he had suddenly felt another wave coming on strong to fight back against the onslaught. A wave of feeling for Michaela so strong as to create a stone wall of strength for him to cling onto, to support him, to force him onwards, cause him to leap without thought after her into the uncertain depths of icy water.

Now faced with this new challenge, scrambling against this wall of ice he felt that blackness swam again, tiny flickers of black, like flies or demons, fluttering before his eyes against the bright white. Whether real, imaginary or from an oncoming exhaustion blackout he could not tell. But the darkness, it was coming…

_0000000000_

"Loren!" Dorothy's anguished voice tore his attention back from the furious circling of Hank and Jake. "Loren look at me." She commanded more forcefully. "I need you to think. What did Michaela do?"

Loren stuttered for a moment, his eyes flicking between Dorothy and the doorway, unwillingly drawn back to the drama there as Jake moved to hide behind the examination table in a fighting move so childlike it would have been amusing in any other circumstances.

"She errr… she errr…"

Dorothy reached out with a calm finger and crooking it took a firm hold of Loren's chin forcing him to look at her directly.

It took a long painful moment as the stared deeply into one another.

"She injected him with something!" Loren cried, but he was already shaking his head. "Some injection. I don't know what. She sent me away."

The Reverend turned quickly to Colleen who sat between Grace and Myra on the bottom step of the stairs. The women cushioning her with their embrace rocked her gently whispering softly to her.

The Reverend bent low towards the girl and with the calm voice he used to soothe his parishioners began to speak.

"Colleen, do you know what Dr. Mike could have given him?"

Colleen raised her head slowly from Grace's shoulder, her eyes were dark and surrounded by darker circles making her look gaunt and exhausted and her voice was so thin and soft that when she spoke he had to lean really close to catch the words.

"A sedative," she whispered groggily, "she probably used a sedative, but I don't know how to give an injection," her voice rose betraying her renewed concern towards the end of her sentence, and arched higher still as she continued with, "Dr. Mike always did that."

"Shhhh… it's alright." Grace soothed, drawing the girl back to her shoulder, her fingers caressing through the slightly tangled strands of her golden hair.

"What about chloroform?" Myra suggested. "Dr. Mike used that on me during my operation." Her voice was quiet; yet each heard her words and felt their minds whir the idea into a plan.

"Chloroform! Yes!" Dorothy said nodding to herself, her slender fingers tapping a distracted rhythm against her lips. "Reverend, do you think if we knocked him out for just a few minutes that we could secure him to something? A chair? The examination bed?"

Still crouching by Colleen the Reverend rubbed a hand over his beard considering this prospect for a moment. It was a risk; they would be messing with medicines that they knew very little about. Yet in small doses he had seen during Brian's operation just how chloroform worked. He had administered it himself.

"I can do this." He spoke out looking first to Dorothy and then around to the rest of the assembled. "We'll have to be cautious, but it just might work."

_0000000000_

He had missed the echo of her first cries; the faint sound had been lost to the rushing gusts of the wind and the scrambling of his fingers. Then in a frantic motion he had run out into the vast field of snow, plundering, slipping, and sliding, over to a series of small trees that had been damaged by the heavy weight of the snowfall. Assessing the damage with practised ease he literally ripped a small tree from the ground with what little strength he had left and returned blunderingly to the aching scar he had left in the pristine white canvas. With a roar so bestial and wild it would have given those who knew him chills he lifted the wood over his head and bringing it down sharply began pounding the weak trunk into the wall of ice before him.

Pounding over and over again, each stabbing motion shooting pain in spikes down the length of his tired arms, yet he could not stop. Over and over again as chards of ice and snow splintered and flaked away with his continuous thrusts until suddenly he met resistance.

He had been digging in the wrong place!

Pulling back he rested on his haunches, head dipped to the ground eyes closed, for a moment gathering up his ragged, wheezing breath and restoring his strength reserve. His shoulders ached; his fingers were bloody and torn with splinters and frostbite. He studied them without thought to himself, flexed them, feeling pain which could not compare to the pain in his heart, merely testing out their suitability to continue.

As he paused he suddenly heard it. The soft sound, barely a whimper to his ears.

Was that his name?

"Michaela?" he cried, hating the sound of his own voice, but realising the power and importance of this tool. Straining forward his forehead creasing in consternation he waited.

Nothing.

"Michaela!" he tried again, cringing at the echo as it stole so many precious moments during which he could miss her all-important response.

And then he heard it again. A faint, smothered response, close by.

"Michaela!" He repeated, his voice rising with his motion and the mounting hope which soared as he scrambled forwards to move in close to the wall of white before him.

"Michaela! Keep talking to me!" He begged, feeling energy burst from the power of his relief at hearing her voice. Emotion so violent that he began to attack the snow and ice with an abandoned passion as inside the cave Michaela continued to cry out to him, pushing against the drift herself, hearing above her own voice the rumble of ice and snow as it began to fall at his feet growing louder and louder as they fought towards one another.

The next moments to Michaela and Sully flew by in a blur of desperation and cold, until with their counteracting passions overwhelming, suddenly the drift violently and unexpectedly gave and they found themselves crashing together!

Michaela, suddenly weightless after forcing her entire body against the snow came tumbling forward into his arms in what seemed to her to be a blinding explosion of beautiful light.

Sully received her with open arms, staggering backwards on unsteady feet, stunned, as their cries to one another faded into sweet silence as they fell, sprawling together in a tangle of clinging limbs, curling their bodies tightly as one, hearts pounding, lips panting, tumbling backwards into the slope of snow that had restrained them from one another.

They rolled, arching together, too relieved to be alive, safe, reunited, to check their reactions. Trembling fingers slid over curved backs and stroked damp hair from faces as they thoughtlessly and instinctively enjoyed the warmth of their bodies pressed together again as cold lips danced warmer against exposed flesh sought out. His lips found ways to tease her sensitive neck, the arch of her shoulder, and the hollow of her throat as hers pressed to the top of his hair, his forehead, the delicate curl of his ear. Continuous caresses sliding uninhibited and frantic. Fulfilling their desperate welling need to confirm that the other was indeed alive, safe, and with them once again.

Their frantic movements finally slowed to gently rocking motions, their palms still stroking warmth, defining contours, checking for damage. Their touches growing sleepy as the adrenaline high lulled. Their noses now nuzzling into the crook of one another's neck, feeling the heartbeat beneath fragile skin and teasing lips over the joyful thumping.

Sully began to move first, slowly easing back from her neck. The sensitive tip of his nose, almost raw from the cold, caressing along her skin, leaving a trail of warmth from his breath. Feeling his motion, she too began to withdraw, her own nose tracing across the scratch of his cheek as her lips parted to draw breath.

And in that natural action her lips accidentally found his, open, inviting and ready.

And, just like that surrender filled moment on her birthday, time seemed to slow as the soft unintentional brush of sensitive skin sent sweet pleasure thumping through them. And then she moved, unable to resist her sudden surging desires she opened herself to him. Instinctively capturing his lower lip between the heat of hers, she stole the intense steam of breath that escaped him as he gasped in surprise before she felt his fingers tighten hungrily, possessively in her hair and his mouth came to life against hers as everything blurred.

He was bewitched by her, her passion so uninhibited, loosing himself to the feel of her as he sensitised her willing mouth. Capturing her lips and caressing her tongue in ways so sensual, overwhelming and unimagined as to make her delirious and dizzy. And she let him, answering his smooth, silky caresses with hungry and enthusiastic explorations of her own.

She had never known kisses could be like this. The magical birthday kiss faded to a distant memory as she arched into the pressure of his body, and surrendered trembling to the bliss.


End file.
